


Just Shitposting

by Scourgefan12



Category: Everyman HYBRID, Homestuck, Rick and Morty, Slender Man Mythos, Tribe Twelve
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 51,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scourgefan12/pseuds/Scourgefan12
Summary: Pretty much where I put the shit I write that's too short or too bad to be their own things





	1. Everyone Has Different Interests

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a joke headcanon of mine. I would ask you to not take this seriously, but

Milo first found his now favorite YouTube channel while scrolling, watching whatever looked interesting. He saw a video with the title "Fried Noodles" and assumed it was just a tutorial on how to cook or something. He'd really only clicked it because of how weird the thumbnail was. Admittedly, the video was actually pretty funny, definitely more worth his time than an actual cooking tutorial, but he didn't give it too much thought after viewing it.

Of course, after watching it, he got more videos by this person suggested to him. He wasn't really all that interested, honestly. Sure, the first one was funny, but nothing too special, so he tried ignoring the videos he was recommended. That was until he saw a video called "Pink Guy - Kill Yourself". When he saw the title, it rubbed him the wrong way at first. He, like any rational human being, believed that there was no reason to tell another human to end their life. Of course, after seeing the title, he had to click the video, just to see exactly how much he should hate this person.

He was kind of, okay very, shocked when he was laughing by the end of the video. Not only laughing, but nearly in tears. He wasn't even one hundred percent sure why he found it so funny, but he did. He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed this much. The person who created the video was a comical genius, in his own personal opinion.

Clearly, after this he watched more of this guy. He was not disappointed, in fact, he wondered why he hadn't done this before. He went from a casual viewer to obsessed in the span of a single day. He couldn't say he regretted it though. He spent nights awake just watching this guy. That would probably be considered unhealthy to most people, but it wasn't like he was going to get to sleep anyway. I mean, have you seen his mother? Have you seen the thing his family was being stalked by? Try sleeping through those.

Because of his newfound obsession, he was a good bit happier than usual. His mother didn't notice, of course. You know who did? His cousin. He'd visited Noah one week, after a lot of planning beforehand. Noah pointed his change in mood out, saying that it was a good thing, as well as asking what caused it. The smile that crossed Milo's face after that was almost predatory.

"Why don't I show you?" He offered, taking Noah's phone before getting an answer. He knew the password. He found a playlist he'd created of his favorite videos by his new favorite channel, and he held the phone in front of them.

Admittedly, he could've chosen a better starting video. Vomit Cake wasn't the best for introducing people to the channel, but hey, what are you gonna do, it was too late now.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------  
As expected, after the first video, Noah was very disgusted and wanted to leave. Milo didn't allow that. He kept saying stuff along the lines of "one more video" or "this one is barely five minutes long". Because Noah was actually patient with his cousin, they got through nearly ten videos before Noah stood up, ready to walk away.

"Aw, come on Noah, just one more-"

Noah smacked Milo's hand, which had been lightly gripping his shoulder, away. "I don't wanna watch any more of that shit." He snapped.

Milo didn't flinch, or really react at all, besides blinking a little.

Noah calmed himself down a bit before speaking again. "Look man, it's cool that you found something you like so much, but that's all really fucked up and I actually feel sick."

Milo just kind of starred for a second before shrugging. "Eh, that's fair."


	2. TribeStuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put a shit ton of work into this AU. Probably more than I should've, but it was fun

_Blood Color, most of which were decided through a test on this site, because seriously, other than tests how else are you supposed to determine this without spending a shit ton of time researching_

Observer- Cerulean(Same as Vriska)  
Firebrand- Jade(Same as Kanaya)  
Mr. Scars- Olive(Same as Nepeta)  
Cursor- Teal(Same as Terezi)  
Deadhead- Blue(Same as Equius)  
Swain- Also Teal  
Persolus- Burgundy(Same as Aradia)  
HABIT- Purple(Same as Gamzee)

 

_Name, that I totally didn't just use google translate for, I swear_

Observer- Attuor (Observe, look at) Custos (Watchman, guard)  
Firebrand- Torris (Brand, firebrand) Testar (Headstrong, stubborn)  
Mr. Scars- Cautes (Wound, cut) Corvus (Rook)  
Cursor- Cursor (Messenger, carrier) Regina (Queen)  
Deadhead- Gestor(Dead, deceased) Leiter (Head, top)  
Swain- Lieben (Love, adore) Scaena (Scene, theater)  
Persolus- Tantum (Alone, only) Cascus (Old, primitive)  
HABIT- Incolo (Inhabit, reside) Potior (Possess, dominate)

 

 

_Quirks, probably the thing I put second most time into_

Observer- Typeswithnospaces, because this is how he types in TT canon

Firebrand- Replaces M and N with ^^ and ^ to resemble fire in a way. Also uses <-> before and after certain words and phrases for emphasis

Mr. Scars- doesN't use capItals, eXcept for specIfIc letters, oNes that haVe straIght lINes IN theM, sINce that's the closest aNd easIest Way to eMulate aNythINg scar-lIke oN a keyboard

Cursor- Uses the letter X in any word that sounds like it could have one, even if the letter doesn't normally have one, because of the tape over her eyes in TT

Deadhead- Puts a Swastika before and after all his sentences, because Nazi

Swain- R<3plac<3s E's with <3

Persolus- [ types in all lower case and als() in squared brackets. replaces O with () ]

HABIT- TYPES IN ALL CAPS, because this is how he types in Emh canon and I couldn't think of anything else to add to it

 

 

_Horns_

Observer- Shaped like triangles, like the ends of the Collective symbol

Firebrand- Resemble the the tips of flames, because fire lmao

Mr. Scars- They go straight up and curve toward the side, they have various scars in them and one's tip is broken off, because he needs his TT canon name to still fit somewhat

Cursor- They both curve towards each other, intersecting to make an X shape, because that letter is the only relevant thing about her I could implement

Deadhead- Resemble the SS symbol, or the Twin Lightning Bolts

Swain- They curve towards each other, making a vague heart shape

Persolus- They go straight up, average size, blunt, because I literally could not think of any relevant features from his TT self to implement

HABIT- They resemble knife blades or rabbit ears depending on how you see them, because those are his two most prominent features in Emh

 

 

_Classpect, the reason this whole thing took me so long. A few double classes but I don't really care. Also I don't give a shit about gendered classes. One classpect that a canon HS character already has but it fit so whatever._

Observer- Prince of Mind (Princes destroy their aspect and destroy through their aspect, tempering their aspect with its inverse to become stronger. Mind is all about logic, decisions, planning, and the outer self. Therefore the Prince of Mind can destroy the decisions of their enemies, create wildly destructive and incredibly skilled schemes, and even drive people insane by destroying their mind.

A Prince of Mind would start off on the edge of Heart, being rather impulsive and emotional. They would be incredibly smart, but rarely use their intelligence. They would also tend to be narcissistic, believing their own emotions and desires are the most important.

A god tiered Prince of Mind would be a masterful strategist to their allies and leave their enemies as gibbering wrecks. They could shut down the parts of an opponent's mind that makes rational decisions, turning them into little more than instinct-driven beasts. They could also destroy others with their own schemes, masterfully executing people through their own choices. Finally, they could simply destroy other's minds, driving them mad or even destroying the physical brain itself, making the head explode. In short, the Prince of Mind is incredibly dangerous to friend and foe alike, and impossible to truly predict.)

  
Firebrand- Rogue of Time (The Rogue of Time would first and foremost have problems coping with the concept of fate or destiny, or that all good things must come to an end. They don't like the ambiguous nature of inevitability, or they may simply be unable to see what their fate or destiny is supposed to be. They may let themselves give up on their own promising future, thinking they aren't really worthy of it or that they can't handle it. They don't have any concrete answers and they struggle with the patience to learn them.

Like all Rogues, they mostly keep these kinds of feelings inside in favor of more happy things. A Rogue of Time may become preoccupied with making things that they like last as long as they can, like wearing a favorite shirt to rags, or using a favorite pencil until it breaks, or trying to keep a pet alive as long as possible, things like that. They might even give up all their precious Time to other people, trying to make relationships or friendships last as long as possible. A Rogue of Time may be uncomfortable with certain kinds of music noises or even silence, and may try to fill it in with their own.

They may even be uncomfortable with the passage of time, wanting to fill up every second of their day with something and hating waiting around for anything. They might hate waiting so much that they steal clocks to give to other people so they won't be late when they want them. I'd say a Rogue's challenge is to learn to be comfortable with their Aspect, and allow the healthy parts of it to enter their lives. A Rogue of Time must learn that good things are good, but all good things must come to an end. The clock will stop, the song will end, but you must go on.)

  
Mr. Scars- Mage of Life (The Mage learns from hard experience at the hands of their aspect and uses their ingrained knowledge of their aspect to act. Life is about energy, life, desire, growth, and eagerness. Therefore the Mage of Life would have an instinctive knowledge of instincts, and be able to use their knowledge of what people want and how they can get it to their advantage. 

The Mage of Life would start out suffering from Life, which could mean in a literal sense that they have cancer, a disease of unrestrained growth. They would also suffer from a lack of impulse control, often diving right into things without thinking them through. As they progressed, the Mage of Life would have to learn from their impulses, and put the knowledge of their own Life to good use. They'd also have to learn how to see past themselves and their own desires, and start working with the rest of their team for the good of the game. 

A god tiered Mage of Life would be a brilliant doctor. They'd be able to tell if someone is having problems with their life and know how to ease the pain or even cure the wounds. They would be able to know what other players or enemies desire by studying them, and would be able to use that knowledge to succeed over them or work with them. They would probably be able to figure out how to achieve immortality much more quickly, which would be helpful in getting the rest of the team to god tier. Finally, they would be able to figure out and enact a plan to revive nearly anything at the peak of their powers. In short, the Mage of Life is a boost to the power of the whole team and a handy healer to boot.)

Cursor- Thief of Life (The Thief of Life would start out as rather egocentric, and focused entirely on their own desires. Their life would be about their wishes without caring about others. This would likely tend to push people away. They would also be the sort to break the rules with a twinkle in their eyes.

As they progressed, they would have to learn restraint from others, and realize that the rules do in fact apply to them as well. A handy Doom player would be incredibly helpful, but a healthy Thief of Life, such as Meenah, would ensure that others taught them. Meenah is actually a very healthily progressing Thief of Life.

A god tiered Thief of Life would be the life drainer, in a nutshell. They would be able to drain the life right out of others, as well as draining energy and motivation if needed. They would then be able to use this energy to boost up their own reserves of endurance. To be honest, who needs more than that? In short, the Thief of Life is a mighty, if unpredictable, combatant to be feared.)

  
Deadhead- Knight of Doom (Knights use their aspect as a weapon, exploit their aspect for any situation, and defend others with their aspect. Doom is all about doom, fate, sacrifice, and rules. Therefore, the Knight of Doom would use doom and restrictions as a weapon. 

The Knight of Doom start out and remain very pessimistic and cynical, using their jaded nature as a mask to prevent their will to defend others. They would stick to the rules at any cost, and utilize every little loophole within them for their benefit.The Knight of Doom would power up comparatively quickly, training themselves with heavy weights day and night, sacrificing sleep and their personal goals in the quest to become stronger. They would use the extra time gained by every sacrifice they make to become stronger and stronger. 

If they make it out of their regimen alive, and make it to god tier, a Knight of Doom would be an incredibly powerful and fearsome combatant. They would fight to kill every time, bringing others to their doom. Foes that face them would tend to be unlucky as they fight, due to their own doom destroying them.)

  
Swain- Knight of Heart (Knights exploit their aspect for both their weapon and any other purpose, and use this weapon to protect their team. Heart is about emotions, the soul, inner selves, and instinct. Therefore the Knight of Heart would exploit their own emotions for their benefit, utilize their splintered soul for combat, and defend the emotions of their team. 

The Knight of Heart would start out as an emotional support. They would defend people if their emotions were taking a beating, but would wrongly assume that they aren't doing enough to protect people. They would also tend to have very helpful instincts, saving themselves from sudden day-to-day dangers at the last second. 

As they progressed, the Knight of Heart would quickly get a grasp of their newfound powers, and the splintered soul that comes with it. They would learn that they can defend people like never before, and gain new self-confidence from this. Perhaps they would also learn to exploit their own emotions, using them to help others even more effectively. 

A god tiered Knight of Heart would be a warrior to the core, no longer a trained professional. They would be able to pull weapons out of their own soul, specifically their so-called "spirit weapon" that is based on their personality, and use these weapons without need for a strife specibus. They could also strengthen the emotions of others, helping them stand up to emotional torment.)

Persolus- Sylph of Void (A Sylph of Void would have all kinds of ideas and opinions about what obscurity, meaninglessness and infinite nonexistence means. They might have a habit of intentionally ignoring or disregarding anything they don't like or don't what others to like or see. They would hide a lot of things and have a lot of secrets that they don't want other people to know. Sylphs of Void don't like being in the spotlight and try to avoid it whenever possible. They don't like being noticed and prefer to have their actions and motives hidden from plain sight.

A Sylph of Void probably wouldn't work well with others either, either thinking or making them believe that other people are useless, meaningless or insignificant to their own plans. They will cover up or shut down anything that might reveal or compromise what they don't want revealed or compromised. They might talk over other people discussing something sensitive or important with meaningless blabbering, not letting them get a word in edgewise. They would dislike other people discussing their ideas, viewpoints, plans or motives and would try to shut them up anyway they could. They have the ability to hide or cover up anything they want, they always work in secret and are very hush hush.

They might seem very indifferent, unaware or ignorant of various things because of this tendency not to reveal anything. They may seem like they consider everything to be meaningless or unimportant, but their true knowledge and motives will always remain hidden. No one will ever really know just how much a Sylph of Void knows or cares about or has up their sleeve, and that's just the way they like it. They are ninjas of espionage, but they are just as likely to be your ally, enemy or double crosser and nobody would ever really know for sure which was which.)

  
HABIT- Prince of Life (Princes destroy their aspect and destroy through their aspect, tempering their aspect with its inverse to become stronger. Life is about energy, life, desire, growth, and eagerness. Therefore the Prince of Life would be able to literally destroy life by killing others, destroy their own selfish desires, and use pure unfocused growth to warp and wreck the bodies of foes.

The Prince of Life would start out as stubborn, vain, and impulsive. They'd be the tough guy and the bully, placing rules on others and on themselves in an unhealthy manner. They'd be vicious to those against them, and likely just take what they want from those weaker than themselves.

A god tiered Prince of Life would be a ridiculously powerful combatant. They would be able to quite simply destroy lives, with or without their powers. Alternatively, they could destroy others _using_ life, twisting their life force and body into a creature of nightmares, or stopping someone's personal or physical growth. In short, the Prince of Life is not someone you want on your bad side.)

 

_Sign(Now updated with Extended Zodiac signs)  
_

Observer- Scorza, sign of the Strategist

Firebrand- Virist, sign of the Protector

Mr. Scars- Lesces, sign of the Instructor

Cursor- Libsces, sign of the Enhancer

Deadhead- Sagimini, sign of the Lurid

Swain- Libo, sign of the Militant

Persolous- Arittanius, sign of the Voyager

HABIT- Caprisces, sign of the Uplifted

 

_Relationships/Quadrants, honestly this is mostly just me projecting my ships into the AU, not even gonna lie_

Observer- ♠(Kismesis of) Firebrand  
Firebrand: ♠ Observer, ♦(Moirail of) HABIT  
Mr. Scars- ♥ Deadhead, ♣ Firebrand and Observer  
Cursor- ♥(Matesprit of) Swain  
Deadhead- ♦ Swain, ♥ Mr. Scars  
Swain- ♦ Deadhead, ♥ Cursor  
Persolous- None  
HABIT- ♦ Firebrand. Used to have ♠ with Patrick, but in this AU, Patrick is dead, since he didn't play the game

And I could have added more info, but I feel like this is plenty considering this was originally just supposed to be the basics lmao


	3. That's An Asparagus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this chapter wasn't even mine rip

It was a dark and stormy night. Five gay retards were currently staying in a motel room together. They had met up at a convention earlier that day, and hadn't felt like splitting up when it had ended. Now they were getting drunk and basically screaming memes and other dumb shit at each other.

Who were the five people? Well, there was the member of the group who had the most subscribers, Leafy. He hadn't originally been part of the group, but had kind of merged with it at some point. He supposed he was friends with them now?

The second, and probably the most noticeable member of the group, was Francis of the Filth, or Frank for short. He had been one of the ones to come up with the idea to go to the convention, and of course he had been the one to bring the alcohol.

The third group member was one of the three initial group members, the one who had actually convinced the other two of his group to come, was Idubbbz, or Ian, as he was known by people he knew off the internet.

Our fourth group member, and the last of the original group, was Maxmoefoe, or just Max. He honestly had only come because Frank and Ian had.

The last group member, the biggest meme of them all, was the infamous Killer Keemstar. Why was he there? Good question. He wasn't even friends with any of the other group members, he'd just tagged along at some point and they hadn't questioned it. Now they were probably too drunk to care.

Now they were, as stated before, pretty much making asses out of themselves. At this point of the night, they had started to get hungry, so they were moving to the kitchen. Why did they think there would be good food in a motel kitchen? Good question.

Anyway, they were all looking in different places, not really paying much mind to each other. Frank was searching the fridge, Ian was looking through the cabinets, Max was checking the silverware drawers for some reason, and Leafy was checking the counters. Keem was just watching the four of them.

Leafy was the first to find something edible. He grabbed it, holding it up for the others to see. "This is a pinecone." He said in a very matter of fact way.

Frank squinted at the item in his hand. "That is not a pinecone, that's an asparagus." He corrected him.

Ian rolled his eyes at both of them. "Do you even know what an asparagus is?"

Frank blinked. "No, I do not."

Max nodded at his words. "This is normal." He said in a reassuring tone.

"I see." Leafy took a moment to think about his words. "Well, I don't actually see, I sense, because I can't actually see, I sense where things are...yeah. 

He wasn't the only one who had no idea what the fuck he'd just said. That didn't stop Frank, Max and Ian from nodding understanding anyway.

Keemstar had to stop himself from laughing at how this was playing out. "It was a fucking amazing idea to spike their drinks." He thought to himself. "Not like they're acting any less stupid than usual."

This train of thought was interrupted by Max speaking. "This is the asparagus god, all hail the asparagus god." He stated, while pointing at Keem.

Leafy, Frank and Ian all nodded in agreement.

Max walked closer to Keem, so that they were standing next to each other. "The asparagus god is quite short."

"This must mean that an asparagus itself is quite short." Frank decided, using scientific reasoning.

Ian nodded, seemingly impressed. "Profound reasoning, Frank."

Max agreed, putting an arm around Keem's shoulders, because he was the closest person to him. "I definitely couldn't have deduced that myself."

Leafy nodded wisely. "Then it must be so."

Keemstar couldn't help but sigh as the conversation continued. "Yeah..never mind. They're way more stupid than usual." He looked them over again. "I really didn't think that was possible." His eyes landed on what they had unanimously decided was an asparagus. In actuality, it was a decorative pinecone made out of wood. He rubbed his temple a bit, feeling a headache coming on. "Fucking retards."


	4. HaramBIT/Harambae

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written back when Harambe was still dank and fresh. I would apologize for this but

HABIT smiled as he sat watching the news. Normally he couldn't give two flying shits about the news, but today there was actually something relevant going on in the world. A child had gotten into an enclosure in the Cincinnati zoo by climbing over the fence. Specifically, the gorilla enclosure, an endangered species of gorilla too. Of course, the gorilla in this enclosure didn't just ignore this. It went after the kid, grabbing him and dragging him around and such.

If you knew HABIT, you knew why this was entertaining for him to watch. Violence was right up his alley, as was the possible deaths of people, especially children. The best part about this was that he hadn't caused it, like most of the things in this category he watched. It was nice for him to see that interesting shit actually happened when he wasn't around.

He brought his knees to his chest as he watched the child get dragged around, giggling very giddily, not unlike a fucking schoolgirl. Normally he didn't get this...happy when he was watching chaos caused by someone or something else. Normally it was just mild entertainment. Something about this was different though. For some reason, watching this gorilla nearly kill this child made him really really happy. It almost scared him, except he didn't get scared. That was a thing organic lifeforms that weren't demons that possess people did. There was also the fact that he didn't really give a shit.

Normally after watching something like this for a while, he'd get bored, impatient. He'd be waiting for the child to just die. But that didn't happen. He wasn't sure how long he sat watching this go on, but at no point did he get tired of watching. He was on the edge of his seat the whole time. There were a few times he caught himself giggling loudly, or whispering words of encouragement to the gorilla. He moved a lot in his seat, oddly energetic at this spectacle. Perhaps even excited? His breath caught in his throat a few times when Harambe, the gorilla, did something unexpected. He was probably enjoying this way too much, honestly. Not that he cared, it wasn't often he enjoyed something this much, and he didn't have anything important to do later that day, so he was going to take his damn time and enjoy it.

It ended way too quickly, abruptly even. He hadn't exactly been paying attention to what was going on around Harambe, he just paid attention to what the gorilla was doing. He was taken by surprise when said gorilla was shot. It took him a moment to process it. He blinked, frowning at the screen.

When the realization that Harambe was dead hit him, he glared. No, this was not okay. The child wasn't even dead yet. It wasn't fair. Nothing about this was okay. He began whispering again, but this time it certainly wasn't words of encouragement. Or anything positive, really. First there were random obscenities, then he began muttering about his plans to kill the zookeeper who had shot him, and then that turned into all the missed opportunities Harambe had that he'd never get to do. After that, he wasn't quite sure exactly what he was saying. It was mostly angry noises, insults and threats in other languages, and enraged growling.

At some point he began pacing around the room. He wasn't sure when this had started but oh well. He had a tight grip on his knife too, huh, okay.

Normally he didn't get this upset, at anything really. If he wasn't too angry to think properly, he would be confused at this. He was very angry though, so instead of thinking about it, he continued doing it. Honestly, it was a miracle he didn't lose control of Evan's body with how mad he got.

When he finally calmed down, he was out of breath. He was also numb, emotionally. If he was capable of sadness, he would probably be feeling that, but alas, he was a demon that didn't even have a body of his own, so sadness wasn't a thing he could feel. The closest he could get was apathy and disappointment.

He just sat on his couch, playing disinterestedly with his knife. Well, that was fun while it lasted. He sighed bitterly. Now that he was calm, he remembered his responsibilities. It had been a few days since he'd checked on Vinny, he figured he should do that. He couldn't find any motivation to do so though. He couldn't find any to do anything, really. He wanted to sleep, which was odd since it was something he rarely did, but whatever. It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

He was about to get up to go to his room when his gaze focused on his knife again. Actually, there was one thing he wanted to do before he slept.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
When Evan woke up the next day, he was very confused at the fairly fresh cuts on his arm, which spelled out 'DicksOutForHarambe'. He was even more confused at the knife next to his bed. Had he done this? If so, why?

He sighed, rolling his eyes. Whatever. If HABIT didn't let him remember it, then it probably wasn't important anyways.

He decided to get up to check if there were any bandages somewhere he could wrap this up with. Surprisingly, he found that he still had some left. However, when he went to grab them, he felt a sharp pain in his head, bad enough to make him stumble and have to lean on the wall.

When the pain ebbed away, he decided that it wasn't worth wrapping up. It wasn't like anyone was gonna see it anyways. He decided to waste his time browsing the internet, with a bottle of painkillers next to him in case the headache came back. As he did this, a news story about a gorilla from the Cincinnati zoo caught his attention.


	5. HABRick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self indulgent garbage for the most part. Characterization of Rick probably is shit since this was my first time writing him, but it's w/e

Rick awoke groggily. As he did so, he found that he wasn't in his room, but rather that he had fallen asleep in the garage. He didn't think anything of this, it had been happening quite often recently. As he sat up he instinctively inspected his nails and ran his tongue over his teeth. As he already knew before doing so, both were quite sharp, as they had been for some time. He wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been like that, maybe a month? Possibly longer. He hadn't bothered keeping track.

As he took in his surroundings he found that, thankfully, the contents of his garage hadn't been messed with too much. Some things were in places different from where he'd left them, but it was better than he'd expected in all honesty.

He looked to the clock. It was past noon, he'd missed breakfast. Whatever. He reached into his lab coat for his flask, only to find it wasn't there. He wasn't sure why he did that, it had been gone for a while, along with the rest of his alcohol. He would gladly buy more, but it would disappear as well, he'd tried it before.

He sighed, leaning his head into his hand. He'd just woke up and he was already decently annoyed. Nice.

As his eyes wandered he noticed something. On the sleeve of his lab coat there was a stain of blood. Normally he wouldn't pay this any mind, he'd stopped caring about that sort of thing around the same time his alcohol had been taken away. However, there was more blood than he was used to. He was surprised he hadn't noticed how much there was earlier, really. Normally, there would just be a few specks here and there, an amount that was easy to ignore. Much less than what he was currently seeing.

There was a long streak down his sleeve, a few decently sized spots on his shirt, even some on his hands, under his nails. Now that he thought about it, he could even taste a little.

That was concerning, he supposed. The last time he could remember having this much blood on him was after the whole 'Tiny Rick' incident.

He frowned, trying to remember what exactly had caused this. It didn't take long for him to recall something, though once he did he almost wished he hadn't. There wasn't too much at first, just a few images. Images of his family. More specifically, images of him slaughtering them. Some with a knife, some with just his bare hands. He couldn't stop himself from tensing up at this. He glanced over at the door that lead into the house. Surely he hadn't, right?

He rolled his eyes at himself. What was he worried about? Of course he hadn't.

Still, as a certain memory of a Morty screaming played in his mind, he couldn't help it. He balled his hands into fists, standing up. He just had to check, make sure.

As he reached for the doorknob he heard talking from the other side. Well, not really talking, more like arguing. Specifically, Beth and Jerry arguing.

He cringed at the sigh of relief that he let out. His family was fine, of course.

He crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, deciding to think more about the previous night's events rather than leave the garage. It wasn't like he could go out there with this much blood on him anyway. He'd have to answer questions, and while he was always good at coming up with excuses and lies, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to explain this.

He knew the memories of himself causing the deaths of his family were real, even without physical evidence all over him he'd know that. He'd dealt with this sort of thing before, nearly every time he woke up really. On a smaller scale than this, of course. Usually he'd have memories of people he didn't know, people he'd never seen before. Sometimes there were aliens too, creatures from different dimensions.

There was one question on his mind though. One version of his family was dead, and he wasn't sure if it was the one he had been living with for the past year or so, or if it was one from another reality. He could've just hopped to another reality after killing the Smiths of his dimension, it wasn't exactly hard to do.

His train on thought was interrupted suddenly by what he could've sworn was laughter in the back of his mind. He glanced around, despite knowing damn well where it had come from. He guessed he was looking for what the fucker found so funny. It was probably him, it usually was. Still, might as well be sure.

It didn't take him long to spot a note on his desk. Had that been there before? Probably, he hadn't been paying much attention. Of course, he walked over to pick it up. As expected, it was scratchy, all caps writing.

DON'T WORRY, YOUR FAMILY'S FINE, I JUST TOOK OUT ONE FROM SOME OTHER DIMENSION

He crumpled the note up and tossed it in the garbage. Ignoring all the problems that could cause for him involving the counsel, depending on which reality had been effected, he really could've gone the rest of his life semi-happily without knowing what killing his family would be like.

As much as he appreciated the fact this his family was fine, he couldn't help the anger bubbling in him at the memories he had left. He glared before speaking. Yeah, he could just think what he wanted to say and the creature occupying his mind and body would hear him, but he found this easier. "Look buddy, I thought we agreed that you weren't gonna mess with my family?" He tried to keep a level head, despite the fact that he was suddenly remembering more clearly.

Another laugh. 'What are you talking about? I didn't kill your family, I killed his family.' The being responded. Normally it wouldn't bother communicating with the people it possessed, but this was a special case.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't care what reality they were from, it was still technically my family and, you know, not having memories of killing them would be nice." While normally he'd berate himself for being this soft, this was also a special case from his end as well.

'I don't know Rick, I think you should be thanking me here. I mean, a lot of people would pay top dollar for this sort of breakthrough.' The creature taunted him with his own words. He could practically see the smug smile on the thing's face.

"Oh my fu-" He groaned, barely stopping himself from going off on this guy. He sighed, calming himself down before speaking again. "Look, for future reference, could you just avoid alternate versions of my family members?" This was probably the nicest he was going to ask for anything ever. "It's not cool, alright?" Honestly if it had been a human he was dealing with, he'd have cut all the bullshit and just got rid of the guy, cut him out of his life using any means available to him. However, he knew what this entity was capable of, and he knew that this wasn't something hat someone could just get rid of. As skilled as he was, he knew there was no way he could stop this thing from ruining everything if it set its mind to it, so he settled to just do what he needed to stay alive and relatively comfortable. He was lucky he'd been able to strike a deal with this thing in the first place, as it would normally just possess, doing whatever it pleased with its vessel.

'Sure, whatever.' It brushed off his request like it was nothing. Luckily for him, access to his family wasn't all that important to it. 'I can still kill stuff though, right?'

"Yeah, sure, as long as you're not caught it doesn't really matter." They both knew that it wouldn't be, it never was. It had been doing this for too long. It was also good for both of them that Rick generally wasn't phased by death, so for the most part it could do whatever it wanted with his body. "Don't you have like, a whole other body you use just for killing people?" He didn't need to ask this question, he knew the answer was yes. When they'd met, it had been in control of another person.

'I have lots of vessels, but I'm assuming you're talking about Evan.'

Of course, that was the guy's name. Poor fucker. All his friends but one were dead, and he had to deal with two other creatures on top of the thing possessing him. He might have felt sorry for the guy if he could find it in him to actually care.

It didn't need a response. As usual, they both already knew the answer. 'Ah yeah, Evan's my number two dude. I'll admit, I do a lot of violent stuff while in control of him, but he's really my most important vessel. At least for now.'

Rick raised half of his eyebrow. "If he's the most important then why's he number two?"

'I rate vessels by how much I enjoy myself while I'm in control of them, not by usefulness.'

He had to stop himself from reaching for his flask again before responding. "And let me guess, I'm number one, right?"

That got another chuckle out of it. 'Don't flatter yourself, Sanchez.'

Rick snorted. "Yeah, whatever." He couldn't keep the slight smirk off of his face. This was really weak banter, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

There were a few moments of silence before one of them spoke again.

'Tell you what. The demon started. I'm probably gonna regret this later, but you've been a surprisingly good sport today, so'

"So?" He prompted it to continue.

'You can get yourself some hard liquor later tonight, you've earned it.'

The speed at which he perked up was almost embarrassing. "Shit, really?"

'Yeah sure, whatever. Just don't do anything too stupid. As if it actually cared about what he did.'

He was already heading to his ship, hands in his pockets. He didn't bother responding as he sat in his usual seat, surprisingly unsurprised by the reappearance of his flask in the passenger seat.


	6. H-4817

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, more self indulgent crossover garbage. This time featuring an entire fucking AU, nice

H-4817. That was the name of the dimension he was from, he'd known that since he first learned how to travel through dimensions. For the longest time, he gave it no thought. Why would he? It was just a meaningless mix of letters and numbers that indicated where he was from. It was important to remember, so he could return to where he came from, but overall meant nothing.

After years of traveling through dimensions, he'd met many interesting creatures. A majority of these creatures ended up trying to kill him, either just because they were hostile in nature, or because of a past encounter that had ended badly, normally the latter. No matter what happened, and no matter what he encountered, he always had a way to fix things if they went sour. Whether it was by killing whatever he was dealing with, or leaving the planet he was on altogether, he always had a solution.

He became aware of the existence of many creatures that many people thought of as myths. For example, aliens and life on other planets were very much real, although he'd known that since before his first time into space, in fact it was one of his reasons for bothering to go in the first place. Creatures such as vampires, were-animals and demons were also quite real. Some were exclusive to different planets and dimensions, but others could easily be found in his own with minimal searching. You just had to know what to look for, and for the most part he did.

Of course, with everything he'd experienced and encountered there had been many times when he'd gotten very close to failing. Whether failing simply meant losing a bit of his supplies, or getting captured and/or killed by the federation, he always found some way to avoid it. There had been times when he'd nearly been killed. Hell, he'd probably died once or twice, hell if he knew. He always found some way to get out of those situations though, to fix things for himself, for the most part. How he did this, he wasn't always one hundred percent sure. He was just good at getting out of bad situations, he supposed.

As he aged, this stayed true. One could say he just got better at problem solving as he got older, if it could be called that. Moving back in with his family may have helped this in some way, at the least it gave him a definite place to stay, which was nice. He also got himself a Morty, which helped him a good bit. This could be annoying at times, considering how inexperienced and anxious his was, but overall it was nice. It gave him less to do on outings, and was admittedly entertaining as well. It was also pretty nice to have someone with him, though he'd never admit it.

He'd intended to teach his Morty what he knew, and he did, kind of. He taught him most of the vital information he knew, enough for him to be able to handle himself on especially difficult adventures, which Rick was thankful for.

One day, Rick awoke at his workbench, which was odd, considering he clearly remembered going to bed in his room, and he couldn't remember getting up at any point. He didn't have problems with sleepwalking, that would definitely be something he'd remember, and it wouldn't develop suddenly overnight. Maybe he had been working on something and had fucked up, causing him to pass out and lose a few hours of memory? No, if that were the case, his failed experiment would still be in front of him.

He was beginning to suspect that he might finally be succumbing to dementia, or something of the sort. As much as he doubted it, his memory had never been this shit before, so it was one of the most plausible things he could think of.

As that thought was settling in his mind, something caught his eye. Not too far away from him on his desk was an envelope, sealed closed with purple duct tape, and god damn it, it looked familiar. If it weren't for the shit he was currently focused on, he would have acknowledged the fact that he didn't own any purple duct tape, and there wasn't any in the house.

At the moment though, he was more concentrated on what was in the envelope, and why the hell it was there. It would hopefully explain his sudden memory issues.

When he grabbed it, he ripped it open with no hesitation, making sure not to damage what was inside of course. This happened to be a note, one that sure as hell wasn't in his handwriting.

"LET ME DO WHAT I WANT, OR YOUR FAMILY'S DEAD. AND DON'T TRY TO FUCK WITH ME, I KNOW YOUR TYPE. -H"

He groaned as he read, rubbing his temples and crumpling up the paper. As his memories, or rather its memories, came back to him, he realized that this was probably the last thing he had expected. This was a demon thing.

Not that it was a problem, he'd handled demons before, they were just huge pains in the ass to deal with, possibly more so than any other entity he'd had to handle. It really depended on how strong of a demon you were faced with. The weaker ones were honestly laughable, easily handled with simple shit like salt circles and such. The stronger ones, however, were a force to be reckoned with. They were all terrible in different ways too. Some were the stereotypical type who try making deals to fuck you over. Others were the type that would come into your life uninvited, hellbent on getting you to end your own life, one way or another. The worst however, in Rick's opinion, were the ones who just possessed you. The reason why they did it didn't really matter to him, just the thought of something else coming in and being able to control you and make you do whatever it wants was a very unnerving thought.

Of course he had to be dealing with the possessing type. This type was also coincidentally the hardest to get rid of.

Even better, this was the type that possessed people so it could use their body to kill things. He didn't even need the note to know that, the memories he had access to made that obvious enough.

Now, for the most part, he didn't have a problem with death and killing things and such. Hell, he'd wiped out entire planets, even a few dimensions before, usually accidentally, but still. He didn't really care too much about ending lives, as long as it didn't directly effect him or anyone he was associated with. Even then, he could normally find a way make it not his problem, thus making it so he didn't have to deal with it. The thing with this was, he had no way to do that if he wasn't actually the one responsible. If some demon was making him do things, then it could easily do things that could very well fuck everything up. And if it ever got caught in the act, then there was no doubt that it would shoulder the blame onto Rick, which would inevitably ruin everything, at least temporarily.

He couldn't just deny this thing what it wanted though. Well, he could, but that would end in a dead family, and he was quite comfortable with the family in the dimension he currently resided in, and really didn't want to bother finding a new one if he didn't have to.

After a bit of thought he decided to let the demon do what it wanted, for a while, just while he was finding a way to get rid of it. He could assume that things would be relatively fine as long as he didn't anger it. At least he could hope.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
He tried the most obvious things first to try to get rid of it. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work. He hadn't expected it to, but it was worth a shot.

As this was going on, the demon certainly was having fun. It seemed like it was trying to push his buttons, trying to see what bothered him. It had begun letting him have more vivid memories of what it did, he could remember the feelings of bones cracking and such. The people who died weren't people he knew though, and seemed to be from a different dimension anyway, so he really didn't care too much and he got used to it pretty quickly.

He also noticed that at some point, over the course of probably a single night, all his teeth and nails had been significantly sharpened, almost enough that they were comparable to those of an animal. This was annoying of course, accidentally biting his tongue or scratching himself too hard would result in him drawing blood, but eventually he got used to this as well.

He started to find less generic ways to get rid of demons. He was going to try them after he collected a decent amount of them, that way it would be more likely that he'd find one that worked sooner, saving him time.

He also kept this whole thing from his family. He didn't want them knowing that this was happening. Not because he actually cared about how they felt, or keeping them from being scared, or anything stupid like that. He just didn't want them on his ass about it. They were still giving him shit about other things he'd caused in the past, the whole brain parasite thing to name one, and that was already enough of a headache.

Not to mention, if Jerry found out that he'd somehow tracked a demon into the house he'd never let it go, even if it didn't effect them and he got rid of it. He'd probably bring it up whenever Rick insulted him, a kind of 'i'm not as bad as you' type of thing, which would get annoying really quickly.

Long story short, he just didn't want his family to make this a federal fucking issue.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
After getting a nice long list of possible fixes, he planned a night to try all of them and hopefully finally be done with this. Normally he didn't care for planning, he found it to be a waste of time that he could be spending actually doing something about whatever he was planning for. He needed to have a time where he could easily do what he needed to without chance of being interrupted, he really didn't want to have to bother explaining himself, or having to take a break in between attempts because someone decided they wanted something from him.

Finding a good date wasn't as difficult as he had expected, the family didn't have much going on so it hadn't been hard to find a night where they would most likely just sleep through what he was doing.

Getting supplies wasn't too hard either, luckily even the most obscure items he'd needed were easily accessible with a bit of dimension hopping.

He had basically everything he needed, now he just had to wait. He was never a big fan of waiting, but it was necessary in this case. It also gave him time to think, get a better idea of what he needed to do, make sure he didn't somehow fuck anything up any make this situation a legitimate problem. He highly doubted he'd mess anything up, he knew what he was doing, but he figured he was better safe than sorry in this particular situation.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
A few days before the night was coming up, Morty began questioning him. Apparently he'd been "acting strange" over the past few days, and it was "worrying him".

While he probably didn't need to hide this from Morty, who had witnessed Rick deal with things that most would consider worse, he lied anyway. He had a specific plan on how he was going to handle this, and he didn't need anyone getting in the way, even if it was someone who would most likely attempt to help him.

He just told his grandson that he was being paranoid, noticing and worrying about things that weren't really happening. Thankfully, this seemed to calm his nerves, or at least get him to drop the subject.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
On the night he had chosen for his plan he awoke in the garage. He would have noted that this wasn't where he'd fallen asleep, and that he didn't remember falling asleep to begin with, but he was used to this sort of thing by now.

He got up, getting ready to check if everyone was sleeping before getting out what he needed. As he did this he noticed that it was quite dark, and that he had blood on his clothes. Normally he wouldn't care too much about this, he'd just turn on the lights, change clothes and get on with his day. This time was different though. This time these small details gave him a bad feeling. A small pit of anxiousness began to grow in his stomach. He pushed it down by taking a drink from his flask. He didn't have time for this. He'd spent weeks planning this, and this was the worst possible time to be having doubts.

He flicked the garage lights on, revealing that there was more blood on the floor, and it looked fairly fresh. He looked questioningly, the pit from only a moment ago coming back.

This was concerning, to say the least. The worst part was, he didn't have any memory at all of what had happened. He could feel the memory he wanted to recover in the back of his mind, it was there, just out of reach. He furrowed his brow in annoyance. He decided that he could deal with that later, whenever the memory was triggered, or whenever the thing possessing him decided to let him see it, he wasn't completely sure about how it worked. Now he needed to get on with his plan, he could deal with whatever else afterwards.

He opened the door to the garage, entering the house. It was less dark than the garage had been, but it was strangely silent.

He had an idea as to why, but he wasn't going to believe it until he saw for himself. Still, he steeled himself just in case. He wanted to think that it wouldn't bother him too much if it was what he suspected, but he would have memories of what had happened, which could very well be a game changer.

He checked Morty's room first, since he knew that the child wouldn't care if he decided to barge in this late, he was used to it by now.

Ash he opened the door, the stains on the carpet were all it took to get the memories to come back to him. He sighed, slamming the door shut, not bothering to investigate further, already knowing what he'd find. "God damn it." He muttered to himself as he went back the way he came. "Of course." He didn't bother checking the other rooms, he knew full well what he'd see.

As he got back to his work station, he didn't give himself time to be upset over this outcome. He'd have plenty of time for that after he got rid of this demon, and after he found a dimension to escape to when he was done with this. He had to take care of the important things to make sure this didn't somehow end up worse for him.

He opened a cupboard under his desk, pulling out a box of items and setting it on said desk. As soon as he opened it he had to stop himself from having a fucking meltdown.

Everything he had collected was gone, and was replaced with a bunch of sticky notes. The writing was in all caps and purple ink, of course.

He took a long drink from his flask before beginning to read them, knowing he'd need it.

"YOU REALLY THINK I'M THAT FUCKING STUPID, SANCHEZ?  
WE SHARE MEMORIES NOW, I SEE EVERYTHING YOU DO.  
ALTHOUGH I'LL ADMIT, I'M IMPRESSED. SOME OF THE THINGS YOU WERE GONNA TRY WOULD HAVE ALMOST BEEN ENOUGH TO MAKE ME SLIGHTLY UNCOMFORTABLE."

Ricks already present frown deepened as he glared down at the notes. If he was reading this correctly, then nothing he had planned would have worked anyway. Of course, the demon could've been bluffing, but he doubted it. What he'd seen of this things abilities so far, it wasn't something you could just 'get rid of'. It was something that you were stuck with, unless you had some sort of special abilities that humans weren't supposed to have. So basically, if a human caught this things attention, they were fucked.

He pushed those thoughts back, another thing to dwell on later. He figured that before he lost his shit, he should finish reading.

"YOU'RE A LOT DUMBER THAN YOU LOOK, WHICH IS PRETTY SAD CONSIDERING HOW SMART YOU LIKE TO THINK YOU ARE.  
YOU WEREN'T STUPID ENOUGH TO TRY TO DIRECTLY SUMMON ME THOUGH, SO I GUESS YOU HAVE THAT TO BE PROUD OF.  
BY THE WAY, DON'T BOTHER TRYING TO PORTAL TO A DIFFERENT DIMENSION. I MEAN, YOU CAN, BUT IT WON'T HELP YOU.  
I ORIGINALLY WAS GONNA WAIT TO DO THIS, MAYBE TAKE IT A LITTLE SLOWER, BUT YOU WERE GETTING YOUR HOPES UP BY A LOT. IT SEEMED LIKE THE BEST TIME.  
MAYBE NEXT TIME DON'T BE A CUNT AND YOUR FAMILY WON'T DIE AS QUICKLY. -REGARDS, HABIT"

Rick reread the notes a few times before allowing himself to think through what they said.

Ignoring the insults that had been sprinkled in, there was vital information that he admittedly hadn't been prepared to receive.

He looked at his portal gun, which was on the desk as well, then back to the notes, his mind was racing. He did this a few times, scrambling for some way to get out of this. If he just left, the thing, HABIT as it called itself, would just come with him. If he tried to collect more items to get rid of it, it would just discard of them again, and possibly do something to his life worse than getting rid of his family next time.

As he was doing this, something on one of the notes caught his eye. He raised a side of his brow at the creatures name. It looked familiar, though he couldn't quite tell exactly why. He was sure that if his brain wasn't still working on processing his situation he was sure he would've had an easier time figuring out.

Another glance at his portal gun answered that question for him. He looked at the dimension number displayed on it, the one it was from. H-4817. He blinked. Surely that was a coincidence, there was no real correlation, that would be impossible. Technically they weren't really the same anyway, the numbers just vaguely resembled letters, which could be used to spell the demon's name. It wouldn't even make sense for there to be a connection.

As he was thinking through this he could've sworn he heard someone laugh. He tensed up and looked around. As expected, there was no one. He didn't need to think for very long at all to know who it had been. He groaned in annoyance. That thing found his confusion funny.

He was suddenly aware of the feeling of being watched. He could feel eyes on him. He sighed. The last thing he needed was more distractions.

He went back to what he had been doing. Thinking of a possible solution to this was suddenly a lot harder, and was he shaking? Only a little, it didn't matter.

He clenched his fists and took a deep breath in. As he finished doing this, any attempt at staying calm and rational was thrown out the window. He crumpled up the notes and began tearing them up. A string of curses in multiple languages, some not native to Earth, left his mouth. He swiped everything within arms reach off of his desk, he heard a good few things break. He didn't care. His nails dug into the workbench, if it weren't metal in would've gotten scratched up a considerable amount.

As he was finished with his small fit, he found himself breathing heavy, shaky breaths. As the rage died down, the expression on his face faded from anger to a blank stare. He wasn't okay with this situation. He was just now coming to terms with how fucked he was.

Two realizations hit him as he let himself lose whatever hope he'd had. One, apparently dimension numbers did mean something. And two, there was no way he could possibly fix this.


	7. Milo's Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Goofy's Trial, but gayer

The Administrator, currently sitting in the court chair, cleared his throat. "Would the suspect please take the stand?"

 

As he said this, a very disheveled Mr Scars stepped up, giggling quietly like that fuckboy Goofy.

 

"Mister Scars, is it?" He asked with a slight head tilt.

 

"Hehe, yup." Scars muttered.

 

"Alright, Mister Scars, you are here today being charged with mass homicide-"

 

More fucking giggling. "Yep."

 

"And your lawyer is present, is that correct?"

 

A man dressed in an outfit not suitable for a courtroom stood up. He was wearing a Hawaiian styled shirt and a fedora. A Haunter shirt was underneath his first shirt, he also had ripped jeans. "Yes, I'm HABIT, I'll be his lawyer today."

 

Admin decided to get to the point. "Now from what I see here, there is strong evidence supporting the mass shooting."

 

More noises of confirmation from Scars.

 

"It looks like you were caught on camera in broad daylight holding a magnum."

 

"Pfft- haha, yup."

 

"So you're admitting that the person in this footage is you?"

 

"Yep, gosh." Scars confirmed.

 

"So you admit that this very same footage from Noah's channel of you massacring a public neighborhood, is you as well?"

 

Scars seemed to find this question quite humorous. He giggled a little louder, with that stupid ass laugh.

 

"Is that a yes, Mister Scars?"

 

He didn't seem to want to stop laughing anytime soon.

 

"Can I get a yes, Mister Scars?" The Administrator asked a bit clearer and louder.

 

At this, HABIT stood up from his seat. "I object, your honor. My client has done nothing wrong."

 

"He killed twenty seven people and crippled five."

 

"He's clinically insane!" The demonic lawyer continued, gesturing at his scarred client. "He's fuckin crazy."

 

Scars nearly cried laughing at this.

 

"Mister Scars this is not a laughing matter." Admin interrupted him.

 

HABIT came back to his defense. "I told you, he's insane, his mother abused him."

 

Admin ignored his outburst, addressing the client. "What do you have to say for yourself?" He asked loudly.

 

Scars slapped his knee, still laughing. "Guilty!" He exclaimed.

 

HABIT interrupted. "Your honor, my client would like to plead insanity."

 

"Nope." Scars countered.

 

"Wait wait, now hold on." Admin motioned for them to be quiet. "Mister Scars, you're saying that you were conscious?"

 

"Yup." Scars confirmed happily.

 

"You were conscious and aware of your actions?" Admin asked again, finishing his sentence this time. "Is that correct?"

 

Scars chuckled again. "Yep."

 

HABIT looked just about done with this shit. "Scars- Scars what the fuck are you doing?"

 

"Well- Gosh, I did it."

 

"Mister Jennings, it looks as if your client has decided to come clean." Admin said, with a hint of smugness.

 

HABIT ran a hand down his face. "Holy fucking shit- Your honor." He looked back up at the faceless being. "I'd like to call for a recess, I would like to talk to my client in private."

 

Admin sighed deeply. "Fine. You have five minutes."

 

"Thank you, your honor."

 

"Five minutes." Admin repeated, holding up his hand for emphasis.

 

HABIT thanked him again before exiting the room, practically dragging Scars with him. "Scars- Scars get the fuck over here." He whispered as he did so.

 

Scars muttered a small "I did it" as he exited.

 

"Are you fucking kidding me." HABIT muttered to himself before turning his attention back to the other being. "Scars, come here- come here and listen to me." He made sure the other entity was focused on him. "Alright Scars, you're on thin ice right now." He spoke a bit more softly than he normally would. "You're no thin ice, buddy." He repeated. "Come on, shape up." He said more forcefully.

 

"But I did it." Scars said matter of factly.

 

"Yeah, I know you did it, we all know you fuckin did it." He said, exasperated. "But we can get you out of this. We can get you off, we can get you-" He was interrupted by the others quiet laughter.

 

"I'm a murderer." The scarred entity muttered, partially to himself. "I'm guilty."

 

"Look Milo, I'm Firebrand's best lawyer, okay." HABIT used others real name to try to stress the seriousness of the situation. "He wanted me on this case, because he cares about you."

 

"I'll fucking do it again."

 

"Okay Milo, do you want to go to jail?"

 

"Nope." Scars shook his head.

 

"Do you wanna go to a psychiatric ward?"

 

"No."

 

"No?" HABIT repeated questioningly.

 

"No." Scars reiterated.

 

"Then you say that you're not guilty." He said firmly. "You didn't do it."

 

"But I did?"

 

"Yeah-" HABIT sighed in frustration. "I know you fucking did it, but just say you didn't."

 

Scars snickered a bit.

 

"Look, you're gonna have to take this seriously, okay." HABIT had his hand on the others shoulder. "You killed twenty seven people, okay, we all know that." He smiled a bit. "But I can get you out of this." Then he went back to being serious. "Do you know how much money Firebrand put on the line for this?" It was a mostly rhetorical question. "Do you know much he's paying for this?" He questioned again. "He's doing this just for you. Because he cares about you, okay?"

 

Scars made a noise that could've been acknowledgement.

 

"If not for me, do this for Firebrand."

 

"Okay." Scars muttered.

 

"I don't care about losing the case." HABIT reminded him. "Just do it for Firebrand, okay?"

 

"Okay." Scars said again, sounding more sure this time. After this, he was lead back into the courtroom, where he put his plan in action.

 

He was laughing more than he had been before. "Murder-" He exclaimed.

 

HABIT was whispering, on the verge of losing his shit. "What the fuck are you doing? Shut the fuck up."

 

"I love murder." Scars said with a smile on his face.

 

The jury made a noise of what was probably disgust, or shock. Possibly both.

 

"The demons told me to." As he said this he was staring at HABIT.

 

Said demon was pacing as much as he was able in his space of the courtroom. "Fuck, fuck- Shut the fuck up, Milo."

 

"Guilty." Admin said without hesitation.

 

Scars laughed some more as he was being handcuffed. "Dying children." Was the last thing he was able to get out before being dragged off.


	8. Slenderverse Shipping Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like quadrants, and I like Slenderverse, so I've started to ship quite a few SV characters using the quadrant system, and I'm just kinda dumping all my ships here

Milo ♦ Noah

Firebrand ♥/♦ Noah

Vinny ♥/♦ Noah

Mr Scars ♠ Observer

Firebrand ♠ Observer

Firebrand ♣ Mr Scars ♣ Observer

Deadhead ♦ Swain

Jay ♦/♥ Tim

Observer ♥ Hoody

Evan ♦/♥ Vinny

HABIT ♠ Patrick

HABIT ♠/♥ Vinny

Cursor ♥ Swain

Mr Scars ♥/♦ Deadhead

Alex ♥ Amy

Jessica ♥ Amy

Brian ♦/♥ Tim

Jeff ♦ Vinny ♦ Evan(Yes I know the pale quadrant doesn't work like that, fucking fight me)

HABIT ♦/♥ Firebrand

Noah ♦ Evan

Jeff ♦/♥ Firebrand, literally just because the ship name would be It's Lit

Deadhead ♥ Hitler

 

I'm not sure why I made this but here it is. I'm probably missing a few but w/e


	9. Mr Scars Is A Pile Of Flaming Garbage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the Filthy Frank Fan Asher series. I'm,,,actually not sorry lmao

Mr Scars was currently sitting at the top of the Collective's watchtower. He was in a very shitty mood. He'd had an encounter with his mother earlier that day, and like most it ended in a fight. He'd also seen Observer, who had somehow managed to be more insufferable than Cursor. Really, after having to interact with both of them in one day, he felt like tearing his throat back open and letting himself bleed out. Despite this, that wasn't what he'd climbed up to the top of the watchtower to do. He also wasn't going to jump, as alluring as that sounded. No, he'd come up there to do the task of watching YouTube, and he'd come all the way up there to do it so that he wouldn't be interrupted. What could he say, it helped him cool down. And it was definitely a better coping mechanism than shredding his wrists any farther. Probably.

 

He powered up his phone before pulling up a video from his special playlist titled Hair Cake. Normally, he'd start at the beginning of the trilogy, but this was his favorite part of said trilogy and he was feeling impatient.

 

He felt a smile spread across his face as the video began playing, whispering to himself "The gang's all here" as the three men starring in the video came on screen. He brought his knees to his chest as the kissing scene happened. He was already starting to feel better. He didn't flinch as the vomiting parts happened, he'd seen this video more times than he could count and really it barely registered to his brain at this point that this sort of thing was supposed to be disgusting. Despite the number of times he'd seen it, it still entertained him quite a bit. The video, and the channel it was from, was also pretty nostalgic for him.

 

After that video ended, he watched a few more classics, some of which were music videos, unlike the first video. After a nice dose of Fried Noodles, Kill Yourself and 100 Accurate Life Hacks, he was actually in a better mood than he had been in a while. He legitimately couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled for this long, it was pretty great. He had also seen these three many times, probably more times than he'd watched the Cake Trilogy. He never got sick of them though. The music videos were just so catchy, and oddly relatable, since most of the lyrics were about suicide, both about committing it and telling others to do it. The other one was just funny to him. He could also relate to it, as he also would often consider killing himself as a pretty neat life hack.

 

He decided to tempt fate and see if he could boost his mood farther. He checked the channel of the videos he'd been watching to see if anything interesting had been uploaded lately. What he saw when he did this nearly made him scream. One of the first things he saw was a video titled Pink Season(Full Album). He laughed, almost unable t believe what he was seeing. "It's here." He muttered to himself. He repeated this a good few times as he opened the video, actually shaking with excitement. Pink Season had been announced about a year ago, and like a lot of fans he had been starting to think it was a myth, that it wouldn't really get completed. He had been hyped for it since he'd first heard that it was in the works, but lately he'd forgot about it. Needless to say, seeing it on his screen brought him great joy.

 

He looked through the description to see the song list. Thirty five. There were thirty five fucking tracks, some he recognized from videos that had already been uploaded and others he didn't. All the titles looked like pure gold, a few that caught his eye more than the others were Help, Please Stop Calling Me Gay and Hentai. He scrolled back up to the video itself, seeing that it had loaded. He leaned back on the railing of the watchtower. He was fully prepared to listen to this entire thing in one sitting and would be damned if anyone or anything wanted to stop him.

 

Almost as soon as he made this decision, he heard a voice. "What're you doing?"

 

His grin disappeared, being replaced by an annoyed look. He recognized that voice and he hated it. He could already feel his good mood slipping away as he glanced up at Observer, who was standing in front of where he was seated. "Fuck off."

 

Server frowned. "Rude, it was just a question." He sat next to the other member. "I'm genuinely curious, you've been gone for a while."

 

Scars was about to give up and just throw himself off the tower, then a thought came to mind. He smiled, putting a hand on the others shoulder. "Why don't I show you?"

 

Before Scars had the chance to do anything, Server snatched the phone away from him, scrolling through the recommended videos.

 

That worked, he supposed. Scars was still smiling, leaning so he could still see the screen.

 

Observer didn't even watch anything before grinning and looking over at Scars. "Wow, you're into some weird shit."

 

"You don't even know what any of it is." He pointed out.

 

"There's a guy in a pink suit in almost all the thumbnails and if that's not weird enough, the titles are fucking odd and they all have millions of views."

 

Scars frowned. "Listen, they're actually really good."

 

"Look, I'm not gonna shame you for your fetishes, but don't drag me into them."

 

"It's not a-" He stopped himself, sighing. This was what he gets for genuinely enjoying something.

 

"What's a human cake, that sounds cool." Observer noticed the final video in the legendary trilogy was there. Without waiting for a response, he tapped it.

 

The smile returned to Scars' face. Perfect.

 

The happiness didn't stay long, since Observer didn't know how to shut the fuck up and watch.

 

"Who are they?" He asked within the first few seconds.

 

"Who's that?" He asked as soon as Chad came on screen.

 

"Are these guys really chefs, because I don't think they're actual professionals."

 

"Were there really two videos before this?"

 

"This is kinda gross."

 

Scars eventually tuned him out, rewatching the video as if the other wasn't there. Although admittedly, Observer's comments during the meat of the video were pretty entertaining.

 

"Are those pubes?"

"Is that p i s s ?"

"S p i T ?? ?"

"They're going to e a t that?? At a weddi n g???"

"Who are these people and why do you like them? Why are they like this, how bad does someone's childhood have to be"

 

Scars could barely contain his laughter. This was even better than Noah's reaction to Vomit Cake.

 

As the video ended, Observer handed back the phone, practically forcing it back into the other's hands.

 

Scars looked at him with a shit eating grin. "So, did you like it?"

 

"I know I said I wasn't gonna shame you but I'm putting my foot down, I'm kinkshaming, what is this, do you need an intervention?"

 

"It's art." Scars answered simply.

 

"It's sick."

 

"Haha yeah, it's pretty cool."

 

"Why are you like this?"

 

"You're a fucking cuck, you're not allowed to shame me, Server."

 

"But this is disgusting??"

 

"Sometimes art is a little messy."

 

"I'm done, I'm leaving." Observer teleported away before Scars could say anything else.

 

Scars let out the laughter he'd been holding in. That was probably the best thing that had happened to him in years. He wiped a single tear before looking back to his screen. Where had he been before that interruption? Oh right, Pink Season. He sighed. He knew that he probably wouldn't have a day as good as this again possibly ever. For the first time in a while, he was actually enjoying being sort of alive and he was gonna milk it for all he could.


	10. Seriously Milo What The Fuck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Numero Tres. Seriously though Milo, get help

It was currently morning in the Asher household. Mary had finished making breakfast and was waiting for her one other family member to wake up. This one other family member happened to be her son, Milo. Normally there would be one more family member as well, Milo's father, but he and Mary had separated a while ago and Mary wasn't too keen on rushing into another relationship.

 

Almost as soon as she had begun to think about him, her son exited his room and started making his way down the stairs. He took his usual seat before pushing the plate of food she'd made away, resting his arms on the table.

 

She ignored this, as she was quite used to it. He'd eat eventually, just not now. "Good morning, Milo." She greeted, taking her own seat.

 

"Yeah, whatever." He mumbled quietly, looking away from her. Now that she was actually facing him she noticed a few things about his appearance that seemed off. He looked more unhappy than usual, which was a feat in and of itself. He looked disheveled, as if he hadn't made any attempt to get himself ready for the day. This was odd because this happened to be a school day and while he didn't really care about reputation, he usually at least put a little effort into looking presentable. The last detail she noticed, which was the most concerning, was that his eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying. This was alarming because Milo never cried. Mary sincerely couldn't remember any time he'd shed a tear once his age reached the double digits.

 

Needless to say, she was concerned. "Milo, are you alright?" She asked cautiously. He normally hated talking about his feelings and would go to great lengths to avoid it, but she felt like she had to talk to him about this.

 

Surprisingly, he didn't immediately snap an 'i'm fine' at her, or even roll his eyes and ignore her. He just looked down at the table, it almost looked as if he was willing himself not to start crying again. The only answer he gave was a shake of his head.

 

"What's wrong?" She asked him, deeply worried now. She really hoped this would be something she could actually help with.

 

"He's dead." Milo whispered, his vice shaky.

 

This made Mary's eyes widen. "Who, Milo who's dead?" She urged him to reveal more.

 

He started shaking, tears brimming in his eyes. "H-He's dead." He repeated. "They fucking killed him, he's gone." As he got the final sentence out, the tears began to spill, and he covered his face with a single hand.

 

She reached out, touching his hand, the one that was still on the table. Shockingly, he didn't have a problem with this. "Who did they kill, and who are they?" She was actually a little scared at this point. Nothing had ever gotten this reaction out of Milo. Even when his cat had died, the one he'd had since he was six, he hadn't been nearly this distraught.

 

Milo didn't respond to this, he just continued sobbing into his hand. He was shaking now too.

 

Mary didn't try to get him to tell her any more. He was clearly very upset, whatever had happened had definitely been horrible and she understood that it would take him time to open up about it. She grabbed hold of his hand in a weak attempt to comfort him.

 

After a few minutes, his sobs quieted down to just sniffles. He looked like he wanted to cry more but had stopped himself. He wiped his eyes and kept facing away from her. "Mom, can I stay home today?" He asked in a very quiet voice.

 

She was sure she felt her heart break right there. "Yes, of course." Really, how could she say no to that? She wasn't the best mother sometimes, but she wasn't fucking evil, she wasn't a god damn monster. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I'd really like to know who died." She really hoped it hadn't been Noah or anyone else close to Milo, although she couldn't help but think that it was. She just couldn't think of anyone else that could get this strong of a reaction out of him. Hell, she was pretty sure that even if she had been the one who died, he wouldn't be nearly this upset.

 

He swallowed hard, taking in a breath. "S-Safari Man." He finally answered, his voice very uneven.

 

Mary blinked in confusion. "Who now?" She was pretty sure that she'd never heard that name in her life.

 

He repeated the name again, his grip on her hand tightening. "They just killed him like it was nothing." He elaborated slightly. "Chin Chin took his chromosomes and just left him for dead." It was clear that not crying again was a great struggle at that moment. "He died right in front of Pink Guy too, and there was nothing that he could do, he just had to stand there and watch his friend fucking die."

 

Mary metaphorically stepped back. Wait just a moment, some of this other stuff Milo was saying sounded kind of familiar. She'd definitely heard him mention a Pink Guy before, and Chin Chin sounded like something he'd said as well. The whole 'chromosomes' thing also sounded kind of-- Oh god damn it. "You're talking about Filthy Frank, aren't you?" She put little effort in concealing her annoyed tone of voice.

 

He just nodded, wiping his eyes again.

 

She couldn't believe this, she couldn't believe she'd just let him play her like that. She'd actually been seriously worried, thinking a death had happened in their family, and it turned out that he was just worked up over an upload for that fucking channel? She really wasn't sure why she'd expected anything less, he probably wouldn't have this type of reaction to any actual person dying. She pulled her hand away, disappointed in not only herself but him as well. "Milo, you know that nobody actually died, right?"

 

"Yes he fucking did." He shot back at her. He sounded offended, hurt that she would even say such a thing. "I watched him fucking die, okay?"

 

Mary would've flinched back if she hadn't heard this tone from him several times before. "Well yeah but, it was just an actor doing a skit, no actual person is dead."

 

"How could you fucking say that? Why are you trying to invalidate my feelings like this?" There it was, he was crying again.

 

"I'm just telling you the truth, Safari Man is not a real person, he is a character." She hated having to talk to him like this, especially when he was in this state, but it felt necessary. She wasn't sure where these problems distinguishing fiction from reality had come from but they clearly weren't healthy. She made a mental note to make an appointment with his therapist sometime soon.

 

"He was real to me, damn it." Honestly, if this was acting, Milo deserved a fucking Oscar at this point. "Just imagine for a second that you spend years of your life watching someone, looking up to them and hoping to meet them someday and then they just die."

 

Mary actually had experienced that before, with an actual human, and seeing him behaving like this over a fucking comedy skit was almost insulting. I mean sure, he had been watching the Filthy Frank channel since he was thirteen, so he had gotten pretty attached, but still. "The thing about that is, you can still meet him if you want to." She began to explain. "The actual person, Frank or George or whatever he calls himself, he's still alive and you could very well find a way to meet him."

 

The look that crossed his face made it clear that he hadn't actually thought of that before. Jesus Christ he needed to get his shit together. "I-I guess that's true?" He muttered. "But Pink Guy still had to see one of his best friends die, and nobody will ever get to see Safari man again." He still continued to defend himself on this issue. "Just think for a second how painful that must be."

 

She felt like she was going to have an aneurysm. Not only did she want to point out the glaringly obvious fact that Pink Guy was also fictional, but there was also the fact that he wasn't even trying to see her side of the issue here. She opened her mouth to debate some more but then closed it again, sighing. She wasn't even going to try here. "Go back to your room and enjoy your day off, because tomorrow you're going and you better do your fucking work and not complain about it."

 

Milo did as he was told, practically dragging himself up the stairs as he did so. After he got back to his room he closed and locked the door. About a minute later the chorus to Fried Noodles began echoing through the house, just the chorus over and over again.

 

She recognized it because he often played it on loop when he tried to sleep. She considered angrily telling him to turn it down, but decided against it. While she was angry with him, this had clearly legitimately upset him and she didn't want to make him feel worse. She just hoped this passed quickly, she wasn't sure what she'd do if he was like this for more than a week.


	11. Everyone's A Nazi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> retty much my whole take on the 'pewdiepie and jontron are nazi's' thing. But with Slenderverse shoehorned in, featuring art from my friend who knows very little about the Slenderverse

Deadhead was currently at the top of the watchtower. He wasn't really doing anything, just looking over the railing, enjoying the view. Really, the view would've been better with color, but he wasn't going to complain, it was still pretty nice. He looked down. He thought about how easy it would be to jump, then he thought about how silly that would be. He wasn't even suicidal, or even depressed really, there would be no point. He chalked that specific thought to spending too much time with Scars, who when he was in his best mood would cheerfully point out all the ways he could end his life.

 

He closed his eyes, breathing in, then out. You know, the Collective realm really wasn't that bad of a place once you got used to it. Sure, eternal imprisonment and slavery was pretty bad, but there were definitely upsides. A few of the other members weren't too horrible. Of course, the scale went from 'somewhat pleasant' to 'completely fucking unbearable' when it came to how tolerable the member's were, so that wasn't really saying much. And the 'everything is black and white' thing was pretty easy to get used to as well, it made things a bit simpler really, Deadhead kind of liked it. There was also the fact that once you're a member, you technically can't die unless the Admin decides he wants you to. Most would consider this a bad thing, but Deadhead appreciated it. It made things easier for the more reckless and/or suicidal members.

 

He opened his eyes, growing bored with this line of thought. He'd thought it many times before, and he was sure he'd think it again. It had been quite remarkable the first time it had crossed his mind, but now it was growing stale. It was just old news.

 

Speaking of news, Deadhead took out his phone and decided to see what the state of the internet was like. He usually regretted this decision, since he'd almost always just see the midst of stupid fights and pointless outrage, but it kept him entertained and that's what was important.

 

To his surprise, it didn't take him much searching to find two article titles that interested him. The first one he saw was titled Jontron, the Nazi. The other that had caught his eye was called Pewdiepie, An Anti-Semite. These two got his attention for one particular reason, and that reason was the fact that he himself was a Nazi. It wasn't a secret, pretty much everyone knew it. One problem about being a Nazi was that it was hard to find people in popular media that you could relate to, since pretty much everyone and their fucking mother seemed to hate Nazis nowadays. What made him even more curious was that these were two very popular people, Deadhead knew this because he recognized their names, he'd seen them mentioned enough times before to remember them. One of them was possibly the post popular person on the internet, and the other was decently close in popularity to the first person. The thought that these two might be legitimate Nazis actually made Deadhead a little excited if he was being honest. He could just think of the possibilities. These two had millions of followers, if they were genuine anti-Semites then they could spread this shit worldwide. And their fans would likely eat it up, most of them were impressionable children anyway, and growing up hearing these types of things said by someone in the media they looked up to would surely have a lasting impression.

 

Okay, he needed to calm down. He didn't even know if these guys were genuine or not. He definitely hoped they were, but he had no evidence yet, he hadn't looked at the facts. He had to read the articles and actually check their channels out if he wanted to actually come to a conclusion.

 

He crossed his fingers and hoped as he began reading.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alright, those were actually fairly convincing. They had seemed to have evidence and support to their claims and that just made Deadhead more hopeful. Now he decided it was a good time to check out their channels to further his research.

 

After getting through a few videos by Pewdiepie, the ones that had sparked the controversy, he couldn't help but feel disappointed and kind of lied to. How had whoever wrote that actually thought this guy was serious? The things he did were clearly jokes, he was a fucking clown. He was sure that nobody could actually watch any of this and believe for a second that this guy was legitimate, nobody could possibly be that stupid. Which could only mean that the article he'd read had purposefully taken what he'd said out of context, made a report about his jokes without giving background on them, and just tried to make this guy look bad. Needless to say, Deadhead wasn't very happy about this. That was something called slander and it was illegal, although he was more upset about how he'd gotten his hopes crushed than he was about this guy being troubled by false media or whatever.

 

He sighed angrily. Okay, this was fine, he could still salvage this. He just had to check out Jontron's channel, maybe he'd have better luck there.

 

After a few videos he had concluded that he was indeed not having any better luck with Jon. At least with Pewdiepie there had been Nazi jokes in the videos, but this?? He legitimately had no fucking clue how anyone could look at this and think 'Nazi'. There was absolutely nothing anti-Semitic in the videos and no matter how much he analyzed them he couldn't connect the dots here.

 

Then he noticed something, a video in the suggested bar. It had the same title as the article he'd read on Jon. He stared at it for a few moments. Maybe it would be able to give him answers. Perhaps the whole thing going on with Jon had been off of YouTube and that was why watching the guy's videos weren't telling him anything.

 

After going through that video he felt even more betrayed than before. Apparently, Jon hadn't actually said anything that suggested he was part of the alt-right, but rather all he did was voice his opinion on the radical-left. Deadhead actually agreed with quite a few points he made too, the radical-left was actual cancer. While he didn't really care for progressiveness in general, really he could take it or leave it, a lot of the far left were fucking insane. He actually couldn't imagine being that deluded about something, it was crazy.

 

All in all, today had been a bad day. He'd gotten his hopes crushed right before his eyes twice and almost actually felt bad for the two people involved in these fiascos. The one upside to this was that he ended up subscribing to both of their channels. While neither of them were real Nazis, they appealed to his sense of humor at times and that was enough for him.

 

He ended up sleeping on the watchtower that night, not wanting to bother to leave. He supposed if he wanted to actually meet other Nazis he'd have to settle for sites like 4chan. While it wasn't the best place for friends, really most of the people on that site were fourteen year old neckbeards, he could live with it. He guessed it was better than nothing.


	12. HABIT'S Done

Noah wasn't sure if he'd ever regretted anything as much as he regretted speaking right now. He had visited HABIT again, not by choice mind you, and things had seemingly been going pretty well. He and the demon had just been talking, they'd even had a nice bit of banter going on. Apparently Noah had been the only one to think it had been nice, since at some point during their discussion HABIT had gotten angry. There hadn't been any warning to it though, things had been going fine and then suddenly he'd snapped. He'd knocked Noah out and the human had just recently started to regain consciousness. He kind of wished he hadn't.

 

He was tied to a chair. The rope was painfully tight and was digging into his wrists. He was also gagged, which was painful on his jaw. He could tell that he'd already been sitting like this for a while, as he was quite sore. The minor amount of physical pain he was in wasn't really what was concerning him though. He was mostly scared of whatever the fuck HABIT had done this for, and what he was planning.

 

Apparently he was going to find out real soon, since almost as soon as he began worrying for his safety, the demon crept out of the shadows to stand in front of him, and boy did he look fucking pissed. He crouched slightly so he was eye level with Noah before he began to speak.

 

"You did it now, you said a bad word." HABIT growled out the word 'bad', sounding almost like a fucking animal. "You decided that it was okay for you to just go around saying bad words." He was scowling right in the poor human's face as he spoke.

 

Noah was now both scared and confused. This was happening because he'd said some 'bad words'? What the fuck?

 

"Well guess what?"

 

Noah really didn't want to guess. Luckily he didn't have to.

 

"I've got a solution to your potty fucking mouth. I got a bar of soap. I've got a big old bar of soap."" He held up a very new looking bar of soap as emphasis. "I've got a bottle of Dawn dish detergent." In his other hand, as he said, was a bottle of fucking detergent. "I'm gonna make sure that I clean your fucking mouth out. I'm gonna scrub your mouth." He leaned a bit closer, very uncomfortably close. "I'm gonna make sure your mouth is so god damn clean I could eat off of it."

 

Noah had been expecting basically anything but this. He'd expected to be tortured or something. Hell, he could see a table of fucking weapons behind HABIT from where he was sitting, but apparently that wasn't what the entity had in mind. It turned out this was what he wanted to do instead, and for some reason this was more terrifying than any of the other shit Noah had witnessed him do.

 

HABIT took a small breath before continuing. "I'm gonna put a bunch of fucking cereal in your mouth and I'm gonna eat that cereal out of your mouth, I'm gonna tongue punch the back of your mouth right after I've cleaned it off." He stood up more straight, making a gesture that conveyed some sort of anger. "You've got a dirty fucking mouth." He pointed an accusing finger at Noah as he said this, taking another breath.

 

Noah at this point felt like crying, and wasn't that far off from doing it. What the actual fuck was this? He could barely process what was being said to him but what little he could understand was scaring him very much.

 

"Is that uh..." HABIT started speaking again, but trailed off. Whether it was because he was still out of breath, which wouldn't be surprising considering how much yelling he was doing, or because he legitimately couldn't find the right words was unclear. "Is that uh..." He did it again, his glare intensifying. "Is that uh- Because of your upbringing?" There it was. "Do you say these dirty fucking words because of the way that you were raised?" His voice was quieter, and somewhat calmer now. Not that it was much comfort. "Do you say these awful fucking things because someone raised you to be this way?" He grabbed Noah by the collar of his shirt. "Or do you think it's just okay?" Back to yelling, it seemed.

 

Noah instinctively tried pulling away. He tried kicking at the demon, but it seemed his legs were tied down too.

 

"Do you think it's okay to go around saying these mean, hurtful things?" HABIT questioned. "Do you think it's okay to walk down the middle of the street screaming fuck, fuck, fuck!" He did a surprisingly good Noah Maxwell impression. "Do you have some sort of disorder?" He sounded legitimately curious now. "Do you have tourettes?" He tilted his head just a tad. "Do you have some sort of disorder that makes you say these dirty words?" His voice was back to the semi-calm tone. "Because if so then you get a free pass." He announced it almost happily. "You get a free soap pass, your mouth is clean." He backed away ever so slightly. "Your mouth is only dirty by circumstance, I can't fix something like that, I'm not a therapist." He almost sounded legitimately sympathetic. "I can't come in here and fix all your problems, but-" Back to being angry. "If you're cursing just to curse, like some edgy teen seeking attention on the internet by some glorious god up there on high, then fuck you." He actually sounded really spiteful.

 

Noah still wasn't sure exactly what he did, all he knew was that he was terrified at this point. The tears that had been pooling in his eyes had started falling.

 

"I'm gonna get the fucking soap out, I'm gonna get the Dawn dish detergent." The items in question were very much still there. "I'm gonna make sure that your mouth is the cleanest mouth it's ever fuckin' been." If it had been coming from anyone else then that sentence would be laughable, but in this situation it was actually quite scary. "I'm gonna make you so fucking clean, you're gonna feel squeaky clean, you're gonna be like a fuckin' dog's squeaky toy." He paused for a moment to think over his words. "Not in terms of how the dog slobbers on it and makes it dirty, but in terms of how squeaky it is."

 

Somehow this whole thing sounded worse the more HABIT spoke. With each sentence Noah grew more afraid of what was coming to him.

 

"That's how squeaky clean you're going to be." He pointed, poking at Noah's chest as he did so. "I'm gonna make sure you're so clean that people will be able to eat off your entire body." He gestured over Noah's trembling form as he said this. "People will be able to eat your body without fear of getting disease." HABIT smiled a bit sadistically. "They can eat you, they can feast off of you, you can cover yourself in chili and people will just fuckin' eat it off you." His grin widened. "Just- Like just a fuckin' human buffet."

 

Noah made the decision to stop trying to fight, realizing that he wasn't getting out of this. He wished he could be surprised that HABIT would do something like this over a few bad words, but really he wasn't. HABIT had probably done worse than this over less, really he should've expected this.

 

"Oh, I'm gonna make you so clean, ooh I'm gonna clean you." He seemed to really want to drill this point home. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good about yourself, you're such a good fucking person, you are a great fucking person." Despite what he was saying, the tone of his voice was still quite enraged. "You are amazing at everything you fuckin' do." He went back to frowning. "So why do you gotta say these dirty fucking words?" He grabbed Noah by the shoulders. "Why do you gotta say these fuckin' dirty fuckin' motherfucking words?" He looked almost disgusted. "Why do you gotta make yourself worse by saying these dirty cunt ass fuckin' shit motherfuckin' things?"

 

If he weren't focused on not focusing on what was happening, Noah would probably be able to taste the hypocrisy in the air through his gag.

 

"Why do you gotta- Why do you gotta bring yourself down to their level when I just wanna make you less dirty?" HABIT was basically yelling right in the poor human's face. "Why do I get to say all these motherfuckin' words?" He asked the question that was probably somewhere in the back of Noah's mind, suddenly not yelling anymore. "Well, I got a word pass, I got a free pass." He began it explain. "It's um- It's a little card my mom gave me when I was a kid." That explanation was bullshit and they both knew it. HABIT was going to continue though. "It says that this guy-" He briefly pointed at himself. "Can curse as much as he wants." He then pointed at Noah. "But you, oooh you're gonna have such a clean mouth after I'm done with you."

 

Noah might have been laughing a bit in between his sobs. It was hard to tell the difference between the two sounds while fucking gagged, and he was also only paying half attention at this point.

 

"You're gonna be gargling that soap, you're gonna be cleaner than you've ever been cleaned before." The tone of his voice made it clear that was both a threat and a promise. "On the inside you'll be clean and on the outside you'll be clean." He said it as if it were a good thing, like a favor. "Maybe in your mind you'll be dirty, but don't worry, I'll cut your fucking skull open and I'll scrub the shit out of that too." He sounded a bit excited for this process to begin. "I've got a bottle of fresh Dawn dishwasher detergent, it's a big one gallon bottle, and I'm gonna cleanse the world with it." After finishing with this monologue, he kicked Noah's chair to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give context, but I almost feel like it's better without


	13. Fusions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like any Steven Universe fan, I'm a big fan of fusions. Like most SU fans, I like to think about what fusions of characters from other fandoms would be like. So I guess this is a chapter of all my Slenderverse fusions. These boys are fun to think of, alright

FireBIT/HABITBrand- Skin is grey. Hair is similar to both HABIT's and Firebrand's, so pretty long and pretty fluffy. Has one large brown eye on his forehead and many small purple eyes along the cheekbone area, kind of like freckles. Teeth are sharp and needle-like, and he's almost constantly smiling so the teeth are pretty much always being shown off. His nails are also really sharp and decently long. Personality-wise he's very similar to HABIT, except he has more chill. Very snarky and witty, also smart and calculated. Dark sense of humor, although everyone in the Verse has that, so darker than normal SV standards. While he's calmer than HABIT, his mood can be very volatile. Because the two people that make him up can't decide on a name, he dislikes having to introduce himself. Introducing himself often causes a good bit of in-fighting. He'll argue with himself over which name to use, and this can distress him enough to unfuse.

 

PABIT/HAtrick- This one's less developed than the others but whatever. His hair is really messy and unkempt. He has four eyes, two are purple and two are orange. His teeth are sharp and fang-like, much like those of an animal. His nails are more like claws than fingernails. He usually wears a black shirt with something edgy on it, either a Haunter or a skull. He has suspenders too, he wears them in an X shape, they're red with a purple stripe down the middle. In regards to personality, he's a real shitty person, as one would expect a fusion of two demons to be. Almost entirely similar to HABIT. HABIT is the one who has the most influence in the fusion, since normally Pat doesn't want to be fused. HABIT has the most control. His fusion weapon is a battle axe.

 

ObserScars/ScarServer- He has a kind of gay fringe type hairstyle, with a ponytail over one of his shoulders. His hair is surprisingly fluffy. He has four eyes as well, the irises and pupils are so faded that it almost looks like he doesn't have any. He has glasses, of course, round and held on his face by a chain. He has scars, of course. Almost all of them are crescent shaped, except the one of his throat, which is more jagged. Regarding personality, he's a real shitty boy. He loves messing with people, making mean spirited jokes and such. He, on some level, likes watching others suffering, even if it's a minuscule amount. He particularly loves messing with Firebrand, finding him the most fun to annoy.

 

DeadScars- Has a skull, not unlike Deadhead's. His skull is much more jagged, has sharper edges. Unlike the others so far, he has four arms. Each arm has a varying amount of bone exposed. He wears a heavy military jacket that's usually unzipped/unbuttoned. He has a few dog tags as well. Regarding his hair, it's quite long, like down to the middle of his back, and pretty much always in a braid. He's a fairly calm individual. More stable than Scars but less so than Deadhead. Very calculated individual, slow to anger and thinks before he speaks. When he is angered, he gets violent rather quickly. Once he's distressed, he is quick to panic. His fusion weapon is a crossbow.

 

CurScars- Their hair is fairly long, it goes down to around the middle of their back and has a small ponytail near the end of it. Their body type is androgynous, leaning more to the masculine side. Their choice of clothing is more feminine. They have all the wounds that both Cursor and Scars do, although all of them are covered up by duct tape. One of their eyes is also covered. Because their wounds are sealed only with duct tape and not properly treated or stitched up, they actively bleed quite often. Because of how bad the relationship between Cursor and Scars is, they are a pretty unstable fusion. In-fighting is very common and happens over even the most minuscule of things. They pretty much hate themselves. Aside from that, they are very ambiguous and grey morality-wise. Because the two people making them up can't agree on a set of pronouns, they are fine with both they/them and it/its.

 

Maxwell- This fusion pretty much only exists in a scenario where Noah and Firebrand are Together. He chose the name Maxwell because Noah didn't want to be called Firebrand and Firebrand didn't want to be called Noah. Neither of them have a problem with their last name, so they went with that. As a fusion of two of the same person, he basically looks like Noah, but more entity-like. His pupils are white rather than black. Again, as a fusion of two of the same person, his personality isn't all that different from either Noah's or Firebrand's. For the most part he is a very stable fusion, only a few things can distress him to the point of having to unfuse. One of these things is how he views himself, whether he likes himself or not. Both the people who make him up love and think highly of each other, but can't stand themselves. This can cause a good deal of inner turmoil, so he tries not to think about it. Because Noah drinks and Firebrand doesn't, this can cause conflict as well.

 

 

That's uh, pretty much it. I mean there are probably more, but none of them are developed enough to mention. I feel like I put too much thought into these guys. It was fun though so whatever


	14. Used To Work In Chicago In A Department Store

It was an average day for Cursor, at least as average as things got in the Collective realm. Usually the realm was filled with hardly controlled chaos, either because of the members or because of the Admin, it was just how this place usually was. This was worth noting because right now it was actually quite tame. Probably more tame than she'd ever seen it before. Scratch that, it was definitely the most tame she'd ever seen it. In fact, it was almost peaceful. Absolutely nothing was happening, at least as far as she knew.

 

She was on the boardwalk, just walking, not really doing much of anything. It was so quiet, almost eerily quiet. Other than her own footsteps and the ever present almost humming sound, it was completely silent. She was completely alone with her thoughts for probably the first time since she'd been assimilated. It was definitely interesting, to say the least. It was also somewhat concerning. This couldn't mean good things. Her first assumption was that something had happened. What she wasn't sure, but this amount of silence and peace didn't happen naturally, not here.

 

As she progressed along the boardwalk, different possibilities forming in her head as she walked, she heard a faint noise. A new noise, one that hadn't been present before. She stopped for a moment to listen, determine what it might be and what direction it was coming from. After a few seconds of standing there, she was able to determine that it was coming from the general direction of the watchtower, which she'd apparently been walking towards. It sounded like it might have been voices, multiple at once, but what they were saying was unclear.

 

Well, that solved the mystery of where the rest of the Collective was, she supposed. At least she assumed so. It sounded like it could very well have been all of them, but there was no way to be sure unless she got closer. She was somewhat curious as to what the hell they were doing, so she decided she'd do this. She knew she'd probably regret this, she often regretted any time she voluntarily spent time with the other Collective members, but she didn't exactly have anything else going on, so she went with it.

 

She continued down the path she'd being going on, listening as well to see if she could decipher what was being said, or really what was happening at all. Eventually she got pretty close, close enough that she was within earshot. It seemed that yes, the rest of the Collective excluding the Admin was here, at the bottom of the watchtower. All of them meaning all, even Persolous was there, although he wasn't really in the midst of the group, he wasn't making any attempt to leave. It seemed they were too busy to acknowledge her presence though. At this range Cursor could also finally hear what they were doing, and what they were doing was definitely not what she'd expected.

 

It seemed like they were chanting, all in unison. Well, chanting wasn't quite right, it was more like singing, kind of like a shanty. How the fuck this happened, she couldn't be sure, but she found that she wasn't all that surprised. It was kind of jarring, yes, but she'd experienced stranger things. Speaking of stranger things, what they were singing was certainly interesting.

 

I used to work in Chicago in a department store. I used to work in Chicago but I don't anymore.

 

They said that once before one of them spoke. One of them being Swain. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for some material."

 

"Some material she wanted." The rest of the group shouted back, perhaps as a prompt to continue.

 

"Felt she got." Swain said it as if it were the funniest thing that had ever passed his lips. The rest of the Coll seemed to think it was quite humorous, chuckling at it and giving a bit of applause.

 

As they began chanting the chorus again, Cursor took a moment to put her face in her hands, muttering a quiet "Oh my god." She honestly wasn't sure why now was when she started being surprised, she really shouldn't have been. This level of childishness should have been expected quite frankly.

 

Then another member piped up, this time it was her son, Mr Scars. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for another KitKat."

 

"Another KitKat she wanted." The rest, as expected, chimed in again, seemingly very eager to hear the punchline to this one.

 

Cursor, for one, really didn't care. This was stupid, and she honestly wasn't sure why she hadn't left after the first line.

 

"Four fingers she got." Scars gave a smirk as he finished the attempt at humor.

 

Same as before, the crowd erupted into cheers and laughter. "My chunky she got." It seemed Persolus was participating, as he chimed in with that lovely comment.

 

After some more immature laughter, Scars finished it off. "I don't work there anymore." After this, the chorus started up again.

 

Cursor was in actual disbelief. She knew that was dumb, but she couldn't help it. She just hadn't expected this level of sheer stupidity from her fellow members. She was really only still listening because she wanted to see what they'd come up with next.

 

Deadhead was the next one to speak. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for a German method of coal extraction."

 

"A German method of coal extraction she wanted." As expected, everyone else did the usual chanting thing.

 

"Mein shaft she got." Deadhead seemed particularly proud of his addition, as did everyone else. There was clapping, laughing. Swain gave him a high five.

 

The singing started back up earlier than normal this time, the crowd calming somewhat faster.

 

Cursor was honestly disappointed. She'd expected better. She shouldn't have, but she had. At the very least she hadn't expected the Nazis to stoop to this low level of humor. They had always seemed mature compared to the others, or at least Deadhead had. This was almost sad to listen to, all her previous expectations of them going down the drain.

 

Observer was the next to speak up. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for an orgasm."

 

As the other parroted the sentence back at him, Cursor muttered a quiet "Oh Jesus Christ." She could already tell this was going to be bad. In fact, she had a feeling she could guess where it was going.

 

"Who gives a fuck what she got?" This sad excuse for a joke was met with the usual acclaim, same as before.

 

As the refrain started up once again, Cursor couldn't help but let it sink in that all of her fellow members were actual fucking middle schoolers. Not even the smart middle schoolers either, but the kind you go out of your way to avoid.

 

It seemed to be Persolus' turn now. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for an Oriental looking device."

 

The utter sorrow at the fact that even Persolus was this immature was enough to drown out the sound of the shouting.

 

"My Jap's eye she got." At this, the group shared a round of cheers and high fives, thoroughly entertained.

 

Cursor sighed deeply. You know what, no. She wasn't okay with this. This was too fucking dumb for her to ignore. "How is that even funny?" She asked, really just wanting to put an end to the fucking stupidity.

 

Her question was completely ignored as the rest of the Collective began chanting that fucking chorus again.

 

"This is fucking retarded." It really was, and she wasn't sure how they couldn't see it. She sighed one more time before continuing. "You know, if you actually got some pussy, you wouldn't have to stand here singing about getting pussy." Ignoring the fact the she was in a relationship with one of the other members, and from what she could tell the other members almost all had some sort of relationship with each other as well. "I'm just throwing it out there."

 

After some more obnoxious chuckling at her annoyance, Scars spoke up again. This time it seemed it was more directed at her than the previous jokes. "A lady came into the store one day, asking for a lady train." The shit eating grin on his face could almost rival Observer's.

 

"A lady train she wanted." The others chimed in, gladly playing along.

 

"A miscarriage she got."

 

This caused the usual reaction, although this time they acknowledged Cursor's presence. Swain gave her a light shove on the shoulder, for example. She saw, or rather heard, Deadhead give Scars a fist bump, Server giving him a pat on the back.

 

If her eyes weren't covered then she would be giving them the most exasperated fucking look. At that moment, she decided this was too stupid to bother with. She teleported away, flipping them off as she did so. She really hoped that the next time they encountered each other, they wouldn't be acting like actual children.


	15. Outside

Milo was currently home alone, his mother was at work and likely wouldn't be returning for a few hours. As far as he was concerned, this was good news, it meant he didn't have to put up with her. He liked being alone really, it gave him more freedom, plus he was a pretty big fan of the whole 'peace and quiet' thing. It was nice.

 

The thing is, he technically wasn't completely alone. There was someone else in the house, someone who he would count as another family member. He'd been trying to ignore them, focus on his own things. He'd been doing a pretty good job at it too. He'd been pretty absorbed in what he was doing- which was a whole lot of nothing, he'd really just been watching cartoons and other miscellaneous shit- when a loud, piercing meow broke his concentration. He paused what he was doing and let out a loud sigh. Oscar, his cat, had been doing this for about an hour now. He'd been standing by the door, screaming, begging to be let out.

 

Normally, Milo would have no issue letting him out, but at the moment it was the middle of the damn night, and he just didn't feel safe letting Oscar, who was still barely old enough to not be considered a kitten, wander around this late. He just didn't want anything to happen to him, the cat was the only member of his immediate family that he really liked and he wasn't sure what he'd do if something happened to him.

 

At the same time, he was getting really sick of Oscar's shit. He swore his head was starting to hurt. He didn't understand how a creature so small could manage to be so loud and annoying.

 

After another obnoxiously loud meow echoed through the house, Milo came to the conclusion that ignoring this would get him nowhere. This wasn't going to stop unless he took some sort of action.

 

He stood up and exited his room, making his way downstairs to where the cat was. When it noticed him, it let out another meow, quieter this time now that they were in the same room.

 

Milo crouched down so that he could more easily address the cat. "Hey, can I ask you something? Can I just pose a little bit of a question to you?" He knew he wasn't going to get a response, but he asked anyway. Well actually he did get one, in the form of a soft mew. That was enough incentive for him to continue. "I just want to know why." He deadpanned. "Why do you wanna go outside so bad?" He asked it as if it was actually possible for him to get an answer. He repeated the question a few times, just to get the point across.

 

Oscar, understandably, looked confused. He turned away from him for a moment and scratched at the door.

 

"Look, the sun's out there, I get that." It actually wasn't, as it was still the middle of the fucking night. "Everybody needs a little bit of that vitamin D." He rationalized, more with himself than anything, considering this was a one sided conversation.

 

Oscar gave him a look and blinked at him. Poor thing had no idea what was going on.

 

Milo, however, didn't interpret the look this way. "And by vitamin D, I don't mean vitamin dick, get your fucking head out of the gutter." He sounded much more offended than was necessary. "What kind of sick monster are you to think that I was saying vitamin dick?" He sounded legitimately angry. "If I had meant vitamin dick then I would've said vitamin dick, but I was talking about vitamin D. It comes from the sun." He was talking almost like a disappointed parent or teacher would to an ornery child.

 

The cat seemed to sense that this wouldn't be over anytime soon, and that Milo had no intentions of letting it out, so it decided to take a seat.

 

"Now, I understand that if you want a little bit of that vitamin D, you go outside, you get some sun, you come back inside." He continued with his lecture. "Now I know you're an outside going person, but I'm more of an inside staying person." He began to explain. "I burn up in the sun, I get all crispy, like a piece of human jerky, like Milo Asher's fine beef jerky, and I don't wanna be jerky, I don't wanna be a jerky man." At this point even he barely knew what he was talking about. "I'm a little bit of a jerk, but I don't want to be a jerky man, you know what I mean?"

 

Oscar had no clue, of course. He yawned and began to groom himself.

 

Milo took a deep breath. "If you go outside, think about the things that are also outside when you go outside." He poked at the cat's chest at the word 'you' for emphasis. "Cars. Cars hit people, cars hurt people, if you're driving a car you have the chance to take that giant metal machine filled with little bits of human meat, and crash into other giant metal machines filled with human bits of meat, and then all the bits just get everywhere. All the flesh and all the mayhem, think about it."

 

Even if Oscar were capable of thinking about it, he probably wouldn't be doing so. He lied down and narrowed his eyes at Milo.

 

"What else is outside?" He mused to himself. After a moment his eyes widened a bit. "Nuclear arms are outside." He was lucky that his mother wasn't home, because if she were then she'd have no problem letting him know just how ridiculous he sounded. "Not like hands that are made of nuclear material, not some guy walking around with plutonium for hands." Why he felt the need to clarify that, nobody knew. "Nuclear warheads." He specified somewhat forcefully.

 

Oscar tilted his head slightly, as if to ask what the hell Milo was going on about.

 

Milo misinterpreted this as well, it seems. "Not the candy you motherfucking moron, I know you're gonna think about that, you're gonna think that the candy is outside. You're a fucking idiot."

 

Oscar didn't even flinch as an accusatory finger was pointed very close to his face.

 

"Nuclear warheads, you god damn idiot." He muttered to himself. "Nuclear missiles, like missiles that blow up and go boom and kill a lot of people." He gave another unnecessary explanation. "Those are outside, those are right outside your doorstep at some point, somewhere. You might have to walk a little while, a couple days, maybe a couple weeks, but you will eventually run into them if you just keep walking for the rest of your life outside." He took another breath. "Think about that, think about all the nuclear things you can find outside."

 

Oscar, who didn't even understand the meaning of the word 'nuclear', or any words at all really, was getting somewhat bored. He stood back up and headbutted at the door.

 

"Think about all the evil animals that are outside, like wasps." Milo said it as if this was some sort of trump card. "Not bees, bees are chill, I'm definitely allergic to bees but they're pretty chill if you just leave them alone, they're fine." He actually was in fact not allergic to bees at all, he was a fucking liar. "One of my only non-problems with outside are bees, they're fine as long as you don't fuck with them." He made a mental note to himself to get back on track. "Wasps though, they're fuckin little assholes. They'll come up to you and just fuck you right up, and they'll sting you a bunch of fuckin times, think about that." When he was going to stop asking a cat to preform cognitive thought, nobody knew. "Wasps are outside." He repeated it one more time, to get the point across.

 

Oscar was getting real tired of this. His tail had begin to flick.

 

"Now dare I say that maybe- maybe someone has created a nuclear wasp." The fact that he hadn't slept the previous night was really starting to show. "I don't wanna get into crazy territory here, don't wanna talk about secret nuclear wasps, it's probably not a thing." Maybe this sort of thing was why he got bullied. "I'm not gonna say it's not a thing, because you never know what some crazy, kooky mad scientist has cooked up in this kooky world of ours."

 

The poor cat had begun scratching at the door again. He was considering meowing again to interrupt Milo's train of thought, or lack of rather, but decided against it.

 

"Think about it though, there's so many problems when you go outside, if you stay inside you can just read about those problems on the internet and you don't have to directly interface with them." Except Oscar couldn't, because Oscar couldn't fucking read. "Think about all the awesome things you can find inside too, like the bathroom, like a refrigerator."

 

If he could understand what was being said to him, Oscar would agree that the bathroom and the fridge were pretty great, some of the best things in the house really.

 

The look on Milo's face suddenly blanked, as if he'd been hit with some sort of realization. "What if you have to go outside to get..a grocery?" He muttered to himself. "I never- I wasn't thinking about that, sometimes you have to go outside to get a whole grocery.." He sounded legitimately astonished by this fact. "Sometimes even to get a whole water." This was truly a moment of awakening in his life. "I mean, there are a lot of bad things outside, but also a lot of good things outside." He stared at the floor for a moment. "I never really thought of it that way, I mean i don't like going outside, but sometimes the deed has to be done, you gotta do the deed- you gotta do the deed of just going out into the depths of the outside world...and maybe I underestimated how nice outside can be." He rose to his feet, a small smile on his face. "Maybe I'll let you outside, does that sound good? You wanna go outside?"

 

As soon as the door was opened, Oscar zoomed out. Finally, he was free. He would, of course, return in a few hours, but for now he was completely free.


	16. The Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth installment in a series literally nobody wanted. Oh well  
> So yeah, Pink Season The Prophecy is pretty lit, and honestly I just wrote this b/c the idea of Mr Scars crying to that shit is amusing to me

Mr Scars was currently deep in the forest. He wasn't in that great of a mood, but then again when was he ever. He was just kind of walking through the forest, exploring deeper into it. He had no real goal, it wasn't like he hadn't already seen this general area before. He was just moving to give himself something to do, he supposed. Going deeper in the forest because he had nowhere else to go, nothing else to do. He would be at the watchtower, but someone else was there, he'd seen them from the bottom on the tower earlier, and he really was not up for social interaction right now. He was in the forest rather than walking on the boardwalk because he felt like there was less of a chance of encountering anyone else like this, it might've just been wishful thinking though.

 

Plus the scenery wasn't completely terrible, so that was something. It would be better in color, but he wasn't going to complain. He didn't care enough to complain anyway.

 

As he walked, his mind wandered. He'd have preferred if it didn't, but there wasn't really anything he could do to stop it. He wasn't thinking of anything specific, his mind wasn't focused on one single thing, it just touched on different topics every so often. Mostly the same shit he usually thought about. How much he disliked the Collective realm, how much he disliked everyone else in the realm, how much he'd prefer to be dead than be here. That sort of thing. If he weren't used to it by now, he'd be pretty annoyed at how negative his line of thought was. He was used to it though. He'd adjusted to it after say, a whole life of negative thought before this.

 

It still wasn't pleasant though, that was for sure. It was something he'd kind of grown bored with, due to the sheer number of times he'd thought some of these things. Like, wow, he wants to die? Who knew?? He hates his life? Who'd have thought??

 

He mostly blocked it out, as best he could. It wasn't too hard. He focused his mind on not thinking, which was kind of an oxymoron but whatever. He just walked, blocked out thought, occasionally stopped to look at a plant. This was probably slightly better than an average day for him. It was kind of boring, but it beat what he usually did, which was basically nothing. Sit atop the watchtower and wallow in his own suffering mostly. At least now he was kind of doing something.

 

His lack of a line of thought was interrupted by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket. This caught his attention immediately. He stopped in his tracks and took a moment to take out his phone and check, see what had happened.

 

He was relieved to see that it wasn't someone trying to contact him. He hadn't expected it to be, considering he had no friends, or even really acquaintances, but it was always a slight possibility.

 

What it actually turned out to be was a pleasant surprise for him. It was something that was actually good, at least by his standards. Something he'd kind of been looking forward to for a little while. He stared at the words on his screen, and as he read them he couldn't stop a small smile from making its way to his face. Filthy Frank uploaded a new video.

 

This caught him quite off guard actually. it had been a while since the last upload, and he'd kind of started to forget about the channel. Needless to say, after seeing the notification, he went to the channel as soon as he could and pulled up the new video. After doing so, he decided to read the title, see what it actually was.

 

Pink Season: The Prophecy was the title apparently. It also had brackets, with the names of people who would be guest starring in the video, friends of George probably.

 

Upon seeing the title, Scars felt his hear rate increase a bit. He remembered Pink Season, he remembered it fondly. It had been probably the best album he'd listened to, excluding the like one other album also by Frank. He'd been taken aback by just how great it was. Whatever this was, it was a follow up to Pink Season, and god Scars was excited to see it.

 

After a bit of staring, breathing, just generally preparing himself, he finally pressed play.

 

He wasn't prepared at all.

 

He was greeted with the view of a beautiful sunset, and he automatically recognized the music that was playing over it. The beginning of Fried Noodles, kind of. It was clearly a remix of some sort, but he recognized it all the same.

 

The names of the ones who'd helped with the video came on screen. Getter. He recognized the first name from a previous video. The rest he'd never seen in his life, but he was already sure that they were incredibly talented.

 

Soon the sunset transitioned to a shot of an open field, where Pink Guy was, he was running through said field.. This was when the singing started, the familiar chorus that he'd memorized. It wasn't Frank who was singing though, it was someone else, but god damn it was beautiful. Scars actually let out a soft gasp as he heard it.

 

Then the beat dropped, and the video officially began. It showed different clips as the song played, all of which were utterly stunning.

 

It stayed focused on Pink Guy in the field for a little while, which Scars didn't mind a single bit. He thoroughly enjoyed seeing the lycra who he affectionately referred to as his boy frolic for a bit.

 

Then somehow, the beat dropped a second time, even harder. That's when the real beautiful visuals started.

 

An array of different shots, different colors, all aesthetically amazing, accompanied by the beautiful pink man.

 

Scars was in complete awe. Already, his expectations had been exceeded. To be fair though, he'd have likely been impressed with anything it could've been.

 

It was when he was presented with a shot of Pink Guy sitting on a cliff side when he started getting emotional. As the rose colored entity sat, kicking his legs as they dangled over the edge, Scars felt tears come to his eyes.

 

As the video progressed, the tears did as well. They were streaming down his face, and he had to wipe his eyes multiple times to see the screen properly.

 

The tears weren't negative, of course. They were tears of happiness. He was just overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance. It was almost too amazing for him to handle. So amazing in fact that it didn't even occur to him how sad of a person he must be to cry over a Filthy Frank video.

 

He was so distracted by his own emotions that he was completely caught off guard when the song changed. He gasped again, more out of shock than awe this time, and tried again to clear the tears from his eyes.

 

He recognized this one almost just as quickly. Are You Serious, one of his favorite Pink Season tracks. Well, all of the tracks were one of his favorites, but this one was especially great. It was, like the previous song, a remix.

 

The imagery continued to be amazing, as he would expect.

 

He couldn't stop his crying, but that sure as hell didn't stop him from appreciating the song properly. As he listened, he could feel the music energizing him.

 

He noticed a few new entities, ones that hadn't been in previous videos. Of course, he took notice to this. One was a guy in a full body pink suit, more full body than Pink Guy's. Scars decided to call this one Pink Man, because he was great with names. The other was a rather criminal looking individual, who had many chains, as well as a pink ski mask. Scars dubbed him Pink Thug, and he also decided that he loved him.

 

He was caught somewhat off guard again when the song changed once more. Another one he recognized nigh immediately, STFU. As he watched his boy sing, the song itself brought brief thoughts of a certain glasses wearing entity.

 

It seemed he was finally getting control over his emotions too, as the sobs from before were reduced to small sniffles. He was quite grateful for this, as it let him focus a bit easier.

 

He vaguely noticed himself tapping his fingers to the beat. He quite enjoyed this piece, it was one of his favorites, and the remix complimented it quite well. Yes, every song by Frank was one of his favorites, but this was one that he listened to fairly often, slightly more often than some others.

 

Surprisingly, the last song transition didn't catch him by surprise. Probably because he was paying more attention this time. It transitioned rather smoothly, to another 10/10 song. Trap Dumplings, one of the more serious songs of Frank's.

 

Scars was never a big fan of food in general, but this song accompanied by video of Pink Guy eating, and mushing dumplings between his hands, made him feel like he wouldn't really mind something to eat. Pink Guy also juggled the dumplings for a bit, which was rather impressive.

 

After the video concluded, Scars just kind of stared at the screen for a bit. He felt like he'd gained so much from viewing this. His mood was drastically improved, he felt blessed.

 

Thinking over the video, he realized that all the clips were most likely telling some sort of story. Something that probably tied in with the lore. This intrigued him quite a bit. He loved the lore. He couldn't really think of what exactly about the whole story this video was adding though.

 

He had the rest of the day, and every day after this, to watch the video again and speculate. In fact, that's exactly what he planned to do. He was sure that no matter how this tied in with the lore, no matter what it added, it would be an absolutely brilliant addition, and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

 

Lore aside, the video on its own was truly amazing. He felt a bit more happy to be alive after having seen it. He thought about how great it was, and he thought about how there was more to come. Fuck, the thought made more tears well up in his eyes. Rest assured, the rest of that day contained plenty more crying.


	17. Prayer

It seemed like everything was going to shit really quick. Not simple 'ruin your day' shit either, but more on the ruining your life end of shit. Teetering very close to life ending shit too at this point.

You see, the day had started off fairly normal, as normal as a day in the Collective realm could get. Things usually were unpleasant, odd, but not downright life threatening or excruciating. Well, during your first year or so excruciating was actually a good word to use, but as you get used to it, it becomes more bearable. That's beside the point though, the point being that things were somehow much more awful than usual.

 

Not for everybody though, just for two specific members. Two specific members who severely fucked up. The two in question were none other than Observer and Mr Scars.

 

Now, what exactly had they done to be in such deep shit? And what was so bad about their current situation? Well, as usual, it was Scars' fault. He had provoked the Administrator. He had done so while Observer was around, and because of the Admin's complete disregard for the well being of its subjects and lack of care for if they actually did anything or not, now they were both in trouble.

 

This wasn't the first time either of them had been on the receiving end of the Admin's rage, of course. Scars disliked the creature and provoked it every so often, sometimes on purpose and sometimes on accident. Observer was its closest subject, the only one who hadn't needed to be assimilated and had started off as a member, so he was held to higher standards than the others, standards which were hard to uphold, which often led to punishment.

 

They had never seen the Admin as pissed as it was now though. Well, Observer had actually, once, and he explained to Scars in a horrified whisper that he was lucky to have lived after seeing it, he was actually pretty sure he only survived because he was still needed for future events. He didn't go into detail explaining what the Admin was going to do to them, since he knew that Scars would find out himself soon enough.

 

They were currently standing at the Admin's feet, looking up at its lack of expression. If it weren't for the aura and the static not so faintly buzzing in their heads, they might think that this wasn't that bad. They could almost feel anger radiating in the air though, and the buzz of the static was painful.

 

The Admin normally would have struck by now, it had been looking down at them for a while. Observer was somewhat puzzled, looking between the creature and the floor. After a few moments of confusion though, it hit him. They weren't going to survive this time, whatever it was going to do was going to kill them, and it was giving them time to say goodbye, or whatever last words they want.

 

Observer turned his attention to Scars. They locked eyes and the look on Server's face was apparently enough for the other to catch on. For a moment he looked annoyed, because of course that tall sadistic fuck would pull this shit. Then he looked scared, probably more scared than Server had ever seen him before. They had already been fairly close, but he shuffled closer to Observer, now they were almost touching.

 

"Did I really piss it off that bad?" Scars asked, still refusing to raise his voice above a whisper, as if that would stop them from being heard.

 

"Apparently so, good going." There was less conviction behind Observer's words than he liked.

 

"Is this gonna be really painful?"

 

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

 

They both went silent after that. There wasn't much else to say to each other anyway.

 

It seemed they had a little more time left though, so Scars decided to take it. He breathed deeply and bowed his head ever so slightly. He then began muttering to himself.

 

Observer gave him a look, not hesitating in interrupting him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

 

He didn't get an answer for a good few seconds, Scars refused to make eye contact. "...Praying."

 

"You aren't religious though?" At least, Observer didn't think he was. He often complained about major religions, pointed out their flaws. He was probably one of the most obnoxiously atheist people you'd meet.

 

Scars didn't answer that time. He was quiet for a little while before getting back to what he was doing.

 

Observer didn't interrupt him a second time. Both because he supposed he could sympathize and because he knew he wouldn't get answers. Instead he decided to listen. Scars was muttering underneath his breath so it was kind of hard to hear, but Server managed.

 

"Cosmic absolution, regular reality. Breath of a concept, symphony of civilizations." His eyes were unfocused yet firmly fixed on the ground. "Confused descendants of rebel cells. I fly toward the universe, I'll pass through it."

 

Observer had no clue what the hell he was saying, or rather what meaning his words supposedly had. They sounded interesting, and the tone they were being said in made them sound meaningful, but they made no sense. They probably made perfect sense in the context of whatever abstract god Scars was trying to speak to. The words sounded almost familiar too though, in a way? Maybe Scars had said them before in the past, who knew.

 

"If you are a star, show yourself, I will stop." He breathed again, deeply, his gaze getting more intense. He clenched and unclenched his fists once or twice before speaking again. "Shadilay, Shadilay, my freedom. Shadilay, Shadilay, oh no. Shadilay, Shadilay, dream or reality? Shadilay, Shadilay, oh no."

 

That was all it took for Observer to recognize what Scars was saying completely. Once the realization hit him, he was pretty sure he could feel his respect drop to levels so low he didn't even know they were possible. He wasn't sure if Scars was still fucking around and joking despite the fact that they were going to die, or if this meant the bullshit meme frog religion he went on about occasionally was serious. He wasn't sure which possibility was worse. Either way, respect had seriously been lost.

 

Still, he decided not to interrupt, if only because letting this happen would delay their deaths for possibly a few more minutes. In any other circumstance he would have berated the shit out of Scars by now, but dying wasn't exactly something he looked forward to, so he kept his mouth shut.

 

"You fly into my life, no it's not finished." Yet, it would be soon though. "I will stop." Most likely not, but here's to hoping. "Set my sails into the sky or at the bottom of the sea, I will believe in you."

 

As the chorus was repeated, the sentence 'i can't believe they let the mentally disabled into the collective' came to Observer's mind. It gave him a momentary smile. Looking at his current situation, and past behaviors of other members, he wasn't sure how much of a joke that thought really was.

 

After the second chorus Scars was silent for a few moments, and for a second it seemed like he was done. Apparently not though. "Metallic harmony, concrete reality. Electronic videoclip, praise of civilizations." After that it was more repetition that led to the next few instances of the chorus. And then Scars looked up at the Admin, fiery, autistic determination in his eyes as he let out the most ear-shattering screech.

 

"Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!"

 

As he listened, it occurred to Observer how sad his life was. The person who was currently screeching at his Keeper was also the closest thing to a friend he had. Aside from said person and Keeper, none of the other members cared about him, and even if they did he didn't particularly give a shit about them. This was the best he had, this sad excuse of a man was the only one willing to put up with him. He wasn't sure why this surprised him, this wasn't new information. It just felt worse thinking about it when he was about to die, he supposed.

 

Then Scars did probably the most stupid shit anyone could choose to do, it was moronic even by his standards, which were clearly almost nonexistent. He ran at the Admin, still screeching. He charged and it looked like he actually thought he had a chance.

 

Observer had never seen someone eviscerated before that, he never wanted to see it. He saw it though, part of it at least. What he didn't see he most certainly heard. He wasn't sure if he should be horrified or not, since Scars did bring it on himself. He decided to not think on it, and rather bow his head to let his Keeper know that he was ready to face his own fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly sure what this is, but it's sure as hell not funny. I tried though?? Honestly, this was mostly an excuse to write down the lyrics to Shadilay, while also writing something for one of my worst headcanons, rip gg


	18. Hate

Deadhead didn't normally do much. Hell, in the Collective there wasn't really much for him to do. Like most other members, he'd fallen into a sort of routine, except unlike most of the others he'd done it more purposefully, rather than it just happening because he didn't have much other choice.

 

His routine was about as uneventful as you'd expect that of a Collective member's to be. Unlike pretty much all of the others, Swain excluded, he actually had a functioning sleep schedule that he stuck to. Time in the Collective was really weird so it was kind of hard to measure exactly how said schedule worked, but it was similar to the one he'd had when he was still alive, which had been a very military one. Aside from sleep, the things he actually did when he was awake and wasn't busy with whatever the Administrator wanted him doing, consisted of mostly things one would expect.

 

He kept up with his military training the best he could, he really didn't want to get rusty. It wasn't as easy as he'd like, considering he didn't have all the equipment and such that had been available to him when he was alive, but he made do.

 

He also occasionally spent time with other members. Everyone in the Collective did this occasionally, except for The Hermit. Not doing so had a good chance of seriously fucking up your mental health, more so than it already clearly would be considering your circumstances, since not interacting with the others was pretty much the same thing as isolation, since the others were really the only people there were to interact with. That being said, Deadhead only really ever spent time with two other members. Those members being Swain, of course, and Mr Scars. That wasn't to say he disliked the others that weren't them, at least not all of them, those two were just the only ones who he could be bothered with, or could be bothered with him.

 

He also occasionally liked to read. He didn't have much literature options available to him, and most of the time he ended up just rereading Mein Kampf, but it was something to do, and although he knew basically the entire thing by heart at this point, he still enjoyed it.

 

That was actually what he was currently doing. It was around what was probably afternoon and there wasn't really anything else for him to do at the time. Not that he was complaining, this wasn't bad.

 

As it turned out, whether he liked it or not, he wasn't going to do that for too long. That was because a few minutes into what he was doing, his phone started vibrating a bit, signifying that someone was trying to contact him.

 

He figured that he'd check it, and depending on who it was and what they wanted he might respond.

 

As it turned out, it was Mr Scars. That was someone he wouldn't object to responding to, although what he wanted was still a factor. Actually reading what had been sent to him seemed like a good idea.

 

"found this and thought of you ;)"

 

Along with that, there was also a link to a video. Well, that caught his attention.

 

Quite honestly, Deadhead expected it to be some sexual shit or something about Nazism, mostly because almost everything Scars sent him was in one of those two categories, and in rare cases both. He had no problem with this, since Nazi related things did cater to his interests, and sexual shit could sometimes come in handy when he was especially bored.

 

At the moment whichever of the two categories this fell into, it seemed more appealing than what he was currently doing. He clicked the link, mentally preparing himself for whatever it was.

 

As it turns out, he couldn't have been prepared, because it was in neither of the categories he'd expected. At least, he didn't think it was? Technically it was white supremacist related, which was kind of related to Nazi beliefs. Normally he'd be delighted to have something of such a nature sent to him, but this was really odd, even for something sent by Scars, and Scars liked sending him hentai and traps, so that said something about the oddity of this.

 

It was a music video. Not a regular one though, as was already established. The lyrics of the music had something to do with killing blacks, or something. He wasn't actually too sure, he hadn't been listening too much. He'd been distracted by the video itself, which consisted of a guy in a moon mask(or maybe it was just a robot with a moon shaped head?) playing the piano and dancing around. The visual quality of the video was also pretty low, which probably meant it was old, or something.

 

It didn't make any sense, it was just really fucking weird. Deadhead suspected there was something he was missing, context perhaps, that would help it make more sense. Still, as confused as he was, he didn't completely dislike it. He didn't think he did at least, he wasn't sure how he felt.

 

So of course, to help make up his mind, he decided to listen to it a few more times, actually pay attention while he's listening this time.

 

*********

He wasn't sure how many times he replayed it, but after about the fifth time hearing it, he decided that he was in love. It was kind of strange, and it didn't make sense, but he could relate to the lyrics quite a bit. They were mostly about hating races that weren't white, which was right up his alley. The robotic text to speech voice, or voices rather, was also strangely fitting. He had a feeling that this was meant to be satire of sorts and was intended for comedy, but that wasn't going to stop him from taking it seriously.

 

He figured he should respond to Scars with his thoughts.

 

"This is beautiful. I love him. Is there more?"

 

That seemed like a good and well thought out response. Scars seemed to think so too, since he replied in only about a minute.

 

"we all do. and it's funny you ask that :))"

 

Along with that there were three more links.

 

Of course, Deadhead watched what was linked to him as soon as possible.

 

The first video of the three was titled Black Lives Don't Matter, which of course got his hopes up. This one didn't have a video to it, just a single frame of who he'd come to know as Moonman standing in front of a Nazi flag. That got his hopes up even more.

 

He was not disappointed. This one, in his opinion, was funnier than the last, and it also fit in with his beliefs. He found the whole black lives matter movement to be fucking stupid, for obvious reasons, and the other races being mixed in added to the quality. He also especially appreciated the line about turning Jews into soap.

 

This got him pretty excited to watch the other two things. He decided to get to that immediately.

 

The second video was called Changes, and unlike the other two it had other musical artists featured on it. Said artists being Starman and Cloudman, obviously friends of Moonman. If they were anything like their crescent friend, then Deadhead was in for a real treat.

 

And it seemed his assumption was correct, this one was pretty damn good. The others on the track were pretty nice, he wasn't as attached to them as he was to the main man, but they lived up to his expectations quite well. One of them bashed the far left and the other briefly shit talked Jews and gays. There was also some Commie bashing, overall lots of diversity in this song. It was also more relaxing than the other two. While the other two had been more traditional rap, this one was more calm.

 

So in short, so far so good. Now there was one more left, and expectations were quite high.

 

The third one was unexpected. Unlike the others, it wasn't music, but it was a reaction video. Normally reactions videos were, as Scars said, fucking cancer, but this was Moonman, and he was going to watch Buzzfeed, one of the biggest cancers of YouTube, so it couldn't have been bad. The specific video that would be reacted to was their 36 Questions Women Have For Men video, which meant there was sure to be some misogyny ahead. Deadhead liked that, he could roll with that.

 

As usual, his assumptions were spot on, and as was expected, that shit was fucking hilarious. Deadhead could agree with almost all the points that were made, and the ones he didn't completely align with were still funny as hell. The word whore was thrown around quite a bit, which was something he heard on a pretty much daily basis, and a word he used whenever he was around specific members, ones of the White Queen variety. The races of the women in the video were also pointed out, of course, because it wouldn't be Moonman without a little racism thrown in.

 

Overall, Deadhead was pretty happy with everything he'd seen. He decided to get back in contact with Scars to share his thoughts.

 

"This might be one of the best things you've ever sent me. Thank you."

 

"don't mention it man, pleasure was all mine. you know there's more where that came from if you search"

 

"How much more?"

 

"shit ton of songs, some full albums, couple more reaction vids. might wanna hurry before they get taken down though, jewtube really doesn't like moonman"

 

"Of course, I'll get on that immediately. Thank you again."

 

"no prob. have fun dude <3"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: How can i make Deadhead even more unlikable than he is in canon?
> 
> me: Oh :^]
> 
> me: does this shit
> 
>  
> 
> Seriously though, every time I update this, it gets even worse. I'm not sorry though


	19. More Fusions: NatSoc Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought of more Slenderverse fusions, this time all involving the Knights/Nazis

DeadSwain- Getting the Big Guy out of the way first, this fusion is basically the Ultimate Nazi, second only to the Big Bad Adolf himself. He has 4 arms and his hair is in none other than the Richard Spencer style cut. He has a nice, sleek skull mask, which is attached to his face, so he can't take it off. He wears a nice button up hoodie and studded leather gloves, and of course he has some nice heavy military style boots, which are probably steel toed. He speaks almost exclusively German and his English is...pretty bad. Not The Worst, he can speak it if he has to, but he very much prefers not to. Occasionally wears dank ass necklaces that have some very nice letters on them. There's NS(National Socialist) HDNW(Hitler Did Nothing Wrong) and RWDS(Right Wing Death Squads). He's the type of person who would go into public and just start screaming Nazi Propaganda, all the while Heiling with all 4 arms.

 

ScarSwain- This guy is something. He technically isn't a Nazi, National Socialist, whatever label one would prefer, but he is pretty damn right leaning and he's not strictly against the idea of Nazism either. He's also the type of person who likes browsing through 4chan and Reddit in his spare time, so,, yikes. Respect for women is like 0% with this guy. He's great at acting though, that's thanks to the Swain part of him of course. His skill in acting lets him be a manipulative little shit very easily, and since his morals aren't exactly the best, he doesn't put too much effort in trying not to be, although if he's Manipulating someone he gives a shit about, he's just doing it for some usually minor gain on his end and will try not to hurt them. His hair is in a nice ass man bun. His mask is legitimately just a sad face, not even a descriptive one, but like a fucking emoticon. He has some fingerless gloves as well as a zip up jacket. He likes making fun of things that some people have called White Supremacist/Nazi things, like milk and Pepe for example. He's the type of dude who would go to an AntiFa rally just for laughs, to piss people off, and would come home with blood on his hands.

 

CurSwain- They might morally be the worst person on this list, but that's a big judgement to make considering what else is here. They fucking hate kids, since Swain isn't exactly fond of them and Cursor legit killed her kid, their fusion can't stand children, lucky for them though that's not an issue since there are no kids in the Collective, there is Cursor's kid though, which of course they can't fucking stand. They are also extremely manipulative, as well as a sociopath, so they really don't care who they hurt with their manipulation, as long as they get what they want. They'd be more than willing to kill someone if it meant getting something in return, and since they're more experienced in both killing and getting away with shit, it'd be easier for them to find a way to not get caught, or at least lessen the damage they take when they do get caught. Their hair is about shoulder length and pretty much always slicked back. Their mask is relatively plain, thick X's covering the eyes so it's really hard for them to see, and a jagged angry looking mouth. Their choice of clothing is quite formal. They have some nice, sleek black gloves that are about elbow length. The best way to describe the rest of their outfit would be to call it a,, feminine suit?? Bottom line, they're a real shithead, but a well dressed one.

 

Walking Contradiction/DeadFire- This guy is probably the most unstable fucker you'll meet. Half Nazi, half Jew, one hundred percent ready for death. There is no reason for him to exist, if he were to happen, it would definitely be some sort of accident or to settle a bet or some shit. Personality-wise, he is surprisingly calm as long as things he's not conflicted on are being discussed. He's lucky to stay fused for a full five minutes at a time, there are so many things that set him off and can make him forcefully unfuse that it's kind of sad. One of the only things he can agree with himself on is that Mary/Cursor is completely insufferable and Milo/Scars is a nice, enjoyable person. He has three arms, two on his sides and one coming out of his chest, the one on his chest has a nice big eye in the middle of the palm. Half his face is a skull, the other half isn't. The eye on the skull side is best described as a sort of smokey orb, and the non-skull side has lots of eyes, small ones clustered where the one would be. His clothes probably consist of a shirt with a question mark on it, because he has no clue what the fuck he is or how to deal with things. Pretty much the only person he spends time with is his sort of cousin, since that's the only person who wouldn't cause him any conflict. Sometimes he wants to hang around Swain, but he never actually does end up doing this.

 

Bonus Jew/ScarFire- A nice, wholesome cousin fusion. He's one of the most stable fusions there is, all while not being a bad person, he's like a fucking white whale of fusions. He loves his sort of cousin, sort of past self a lot and although he can't interfere with things for Noah directly because Time Loop, he's extremely supportive. He's a generally sad person since he has Scars' depression and Firebrand's Issues, but unlike the two of them separated, he actually makes some sort of an attempt to use healthy coping mechanisms. Whether or not his attempts are successful is up to debate, but he tries. His hair is really fluffy and pretty long, and on the end is in two nice braids, if he were to undo the braids then it'd be about halfway down his back. Every one of Scars' scars are still there, except now they're eyes, a bunch of eyes that are normally closed, they usually only start opening when he's distressed or wants to intimidate someone. It takes a hell of a lot to get him to open the throat-eye, since that's the biggest one he has and since it's part scar, it's probably fairly painful to open. He can easily spend hours just by himself, sitting and mentally conversing. He makes a lot of self-physical contact without even really noticing it, like linking his hands or wrapping his arms around himself. Unlike most fusions that Scars is a part of, he actually likes himself quite a bit.

 

That's pretty much all the combos I could think of using the NatSoc boys, with a nice friendly boy thrown in at the end. I already love them all a lot


	20. The Age Old Question

It may come as a shock, but there weren't many times when each member of the Collective interacted with each other.

Actually, maybe that wasn't too surprising, all things considered. Only a select few actually got along with each other, and the ones who didn't like each other basically hated each other, so getting them all together would most likely end very badly.

That being said, not every single time they ended up getting together ended in complete disaster, complete disaster meaning that one of them attempted to murder another or something. Sometimes, although the meetings got pretty heated, no real harm was done. Although, with how rare them meeting up in general was, you can only imagine how rare the non-disaster ones were.

Of course, just because there were times where they met up and didn't almost kill each other, that didn't mean that they got along in these meetups, or that these actually went well. During these instances, there was almost always some sort of verbal fighting, and if there wasn't then that meant they just weren't talking.

Usually these fights were about serious things, topics that hit a sore spot or brought up bad memories for one or all of them.

For example, Firebrand and Observer fought about the loop and the well being of Firebrand's past self. Sometimes Mr Scars would butt into this to take Firebrand's side as well, just cause he was technically dead didn't mean he didn't still care for his cousin after all.

Another example was the fights between Mr Scars and Cursor, any of them, they were pretty much all about the same general topic. If Firebrand were around, he'd jump in and take his cousin's side. One of the many things they could agree on was how bad of a person Scars' mother was, and he couldn't stand to watch them fighting without giving his two cents on the matter.

Not every fight was like that though. Yes, most of them were over serious, emotionally charged topics, but there were some that were over absolute nonsense. Some that were over something so utterly stupid that one would think that the ones arguing were children.

Even worse if you considered that sometimes these lasted longer than the fights that were over something important. They also occasionally got closer to becoming violent than the serious ones.

Almost all of them were prompted by some sort of dumb joke, which for some reason ended up angering one or more of the others, and for some reason they let these spiral into full on arguments rather than shutting them down quickly by making it clear that it was a joke.

There were quite a few small scale examples of this, all of which were somewhat amusing in their own way, but none of them could compare to the absolute madness that was 'Are traps gay? '

At first you might think that the Collective would never argue over such a topic, they're adults after all, they must be mature, and some of them are probably too old to even know what a trap is. Unfortunately, you'd be wrong.

This event had unfolded late into one of the meetups. In this specific one, nothing had really gone wrong yet. Aside from a few distasteful comments and angry stares, there hadn't been any real conflict. So, of course, that meant that it was only a matter of time.

It had started during a lull in activity, almost everyone had gone quiet, aside from a bit of muttering to whoever they were closest to. Almost nothing was actually going on.

Scars had been the one to ask the question. Whether he thought it would be funny or he actually wanted it to spark conversation, he wasn't sure. It didn't really matter, because the events that unfolded afterwords were the same either way.

After he'd asked, his cousin was the first to respond, wanting to indulge him probably, assuming that nobody else would answer. "Nah, they're not." That was the only thing he felt the need to say. Apparently though, it was enough to strike a nerve.

Deadhead looked up at him, with a baffled look in his eye. "What? Of course they are." He said it like it was obvious, like anyone who thought otherwise was a fucking idiot.

Of course, Firebrand couldn't step down from a tussle with Deadhead, so he had to respond to this. "No they're fucking not, actually."

"What about them isn't? They have a penis, you wouldn't look at them if you didn't want to see that, and if you want to see that it makes you gay."

Firebrand apparently took great offense to this, judging by the tone of his response. "The dick doesn't matter, okay? All their secondary sex characteristics are female, that's the main appeal."

"If that's the main appeal, then why include the dick in the first place??" Deadhead took a step closer to Firebrand, looking like he was actually ready to get in a physical fight over this. Whether he was actually that passionate about the topic or it was just because of who he was arguing with was hard to tell.

"Actually, I hate to say it, but he has a point." The other Knight decided to step in, placing a hand on Deadhead's shoulder. "They're really not gay."

"Sebastian..." Deadhead sounded legitimately betrayed, and maybe kind of hurt as he glanced between the two of them.

Swain paid that no mind though as he decided to elaborate. "I mean, come on. They have tits and almost all of them wear skirts or dresses or some shit, no gay man would want to see a woman's body in that."

Deadhead looked somewhat similar to a cornered animal, he tried to think of a rebuttal, but after some time settled on the next best thing. "...Scars, help me out here."

Scars was still trying not to laugh at how serious they were taking this, so it took him a moment to actually articulate his thoughts. "No offense, but they're super gay."

"Milo! Come on, I thought you were on my side." Firebrand wore a look of betrayal that was very similar to Deadhead's earlier one.

"Sorry man, but that's just how it is." Scars sounded like the only calm one here. Well, aside from Swain, who had been pretty calm so far. "Guys liking dicks are gay, it's really that simple, you can't look at a trap and claim that you're straight."

Apparently, Swain's calmness wasn't going to last. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm straight and I like traps."

"Sorry, but you're actually gay, or something. Definitely not straight." Scars just about died at the look of rage in Swain's eyes when he said that. "I mean, I have stats to back this up. Look at Noah, he likes them, and he's one of the biggest fags I know."

"Don't talk about him like that!" Firebrand dragged his cousin's attention away from Swain for a moment.

"Right, sorry. He is pretty gay though."

That seemed to satisfy Firebrand, since he returned his glare to Deadhead.

Just in time too, since Swain was still pretty angry. "I am not fucking gay." The pure, unbridled fury in his voice was something to behold.

"Maybe so, but that doesn't make you straight."

Swain tried to come up with an argument to that, he really did, but any attempts ended up dying in his throat before he could actually voice them. In this case, he decided to go the Deadhead route with his approach. "Mary, tell your son that he's full of shit."

Cursor, who had been doing her best to ignore the events going on around her, sighed as she looked in their general direction. She was silent for a few moments before responding. "Please, tell me why I should care about this first."

"Because I'm not gay- or whatever other bullshit he's implying. I like females."

"Hm." She went back to the book she'd been pretending to read. "If you say so."

Swain looked like he was in a state of shock. Although you couldn't see behind his mask, you could only imagine the look of despair he had.

Deadhead was the next one to speak to him, in a much gentler tone than the one he'd used on Firebrand. "Sebastian, I'm not calling you anything, but I think Scars has a point."

"No, they're not gay! I'm not gay!!" At this point it would be a surprise if he was actually crying.

Deadhead was going to assure him that he believed him, but before he could Firebrand stepped in. "I agree that they're not gay, but you personally seem very gay."

"Don't insult him like that." Deadhead turned back to the ex-member, pure venom in his voice.

"Gay isn't an insult though, who cares if he wants to fuck dudes?"

Scars was pretty sure he hadn't ever seen the Knights look this pissed, they looked like they were ready to tear Firebrand to shreds. It was only now that he started to get the thought that starting this discussion might have been a bad idea. He decided now was a good time to start taking this seriously, stepping between them. "Guys, back up. And Firebrand, stop calling him names."

Swain looked more confused than ever. "But you're the one who started it??"

Firebrand also seemed somewhat confused, but mostly relieved. "I'm not, I'm just calling it how I see it."

From this point on, the debate hit a brick wall, they just kept arguing in circles. It was just a mantra of 'well i'm gay so i know gay when i see it ' and 'i'm straight and there's nothing gay about them '. At some point Observer threw out a 'who the fuck cares ' that fell on deaf ears.

In the end, nothing was actually settled. Everyone separated, each of them feeling bitter or hurt in some way due to the argument. It was after this that Scars learned to never ask these people anything again.


	21. The Order Solution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So recently Milo's journal revealed that Deadhead is involved with the Order and,,, you know I had to do it to em

A group of hooded men stood in a circle around a campfire. For the moment they were silent, staring into it, the fire reflecting off of their white masks. All of them had these masks except one. This one seemed to be absent of any flesh, at least from what could be seen of them, which was really just their face.

After what seemed like ages, one of them spoke. "So, you're sure that all this will actually help us get him back?" He wasn't asking any of the others in particular, just any of them that wanted to answer.

"Well, of course, we wouldn't be doing any of this if it wouldn't." Another one answered quickly, blue eyes darting to the shorter man.

"Exactly." The one next to him, the current overseer, added. "The easiest and least laboring way to get his attention is through worship, so this is what we need to do."

"Maybe so, but that's assuming that the thing we're worshiping is even him." He crossed his arms, facing the two that he was addressing.

"Of course it's him." The overseer seemed somewhat offended by his colleagues skepticism. "We have a first hand account of someone who has been captured by it, who also happens to be one of us. I think he'd know the Führer if he saw him."

"Could just be wishful thinking on his part though." He spoke as if the person he was talking about, the skull faced man, wasn't right there. "If it were you, wouldn't you want to choose to believe that the Eldritch monstrosity that captured you was him?"

"Are you saying that you doubt his word?"

"I'm saying that it seems a bit convenient is all, I mean, what are the odds that the thing he got captured by also happened to be the one he'd already been serving under?"

"So, it's really easier to believe that some random supernatural being took interest in him than the possibility that this thing is some incarnation of the Führer?"

The man stayed silent for a few seconds, baffled. "Yes, actually, that does sound a lot more believable. In fact, the thought that this thing could be him doesn't make any sense, and I'm disappointed that all of you are buying into this inane theory."

"Joseph." The skull faced man spoke, clearly very unhappy. "With all due respect, shut your fucking mouth."

Joseph turned to him, immediately disobeying his orders. "Why should I? Am I not allowed to express doubt?"

"There's a clear difference between expressing doubt and belittling our experiences and beliefs." The overseer spoke before the skull man could.

Skull man didn't seem to mind though. "Exactly, here I am with experience serving under both the Führer and this thing, and you've hardly even seen this thing in person."

"Okay?" Joe seemed legitimately dumbstruck that this was an actual discussion that was taking place. "I was closer to Adolf than you, so I think I have more agency on the topic than you if we're using that as argument."

"Hess and Speer were just as close as you, if not closer, and they believe me." Skull man gestured toward two other occultists.

Speer spoke first. "Listen, Deadhead right? I just said I was open to the possibility, I'm really not decided on what I believe."

Deadhead apparently didn't feel like dignifying him with a response, and moved his gaze to Hess instead.

Hess shrunk back a bit, having a man with a skull for a face glaring at you like that was intimidating after all. "I know that I want to believe, but I'm not really decided yet either." His voice sounded a lot more confident than he looked, luckily. "Besides, Goebbels kind of has a point, we don't have any real proof that it's him."

Deadhead's glare grew harsher, clearly that wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for. He glanced around at the others, his eyes landed on the more heavyset member of their group.

Nothing needed to be said for him to provide an answer. "I mean, I think it's him. Weirder things have happened, and you seem to know what you're talking about." It was unclear whether he was saying that out of truth or fear.

"For what it's worth, I believed you from the start." The overseer spoke up. This was no real surprise, even back in the day, before all of this, he had been very interested in the occult.

"So did I, Heinrich seemed pretty confident, and that was enough for me." The one next to the overseer added his two cents.

Deadhead was silent for a few moments, looking them all over again before speaking. "While your support is greatly appreciated, it ultimately doesn't matter." He started pacing a bit as he began to monologue. "Whether you believe me or not doesn't make it any less true, I know what that thing is, and it's definitely him." He stepped closer to the fire, presumably for dramatic effect. "Sure, Sebastian doesn't believe me either, which is why he didn't come, but still, that doesn't matter either." He stopped moving, opting to just stare into the fire. "Denial doesn't change the reality of the situation."

It was quiet for a few seconds before someone spoke again, that someone being Goebbels. "You know, that same logic could be used against you."

Deadhead didn't take kindly to that, turning to him, looking more pissed than ever. He still somehow managed to keep his voice even as he spoke. "Would you mind explaining the logic behind that?"

"Do I really have to? You seem to already know exactly what I mean." Obviously, despite saying this he was planning to explain anyway. "You have no proof of your claims, and not only that but they make no sense, anyone who used any sensible thinking would think that seeing him in that thing is completely ridiculous, there's absolutely no correlation and I think you know it, but you choose to ignore it because--"

Before he could finish his rant, he was interrupted by the fire abruptly going out.

Deadhead, who before was starting to look like he was ready to maul Joseph, had any traces of anger gone from him, and was glancing around curiously.

Everyone else was looking around too, but they looked considerably more scared. Some of them moved closer to each other, others looked like they were ready to run.

Deadhead for the most part seemed unfazed. After a few moments of searching, he looked in the distance at something. His eyes lit up as he addressed the others, voice much quieter than before. "Whatever we were doing, it seems we succeeded in summoning him."

The others turned their attention in the direction he was fixated on, most of them froze in fear when they saw it, looming far away yet somehow way too close.

"What do we do now?" Heinrich's voice was hardly above a whisper.

Deadhead was already moving toward it as he answered. "Approach him and let him do as he pleases. If we live, follow any orders we're given to a T."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend of mine made a joke about the Order being a bunch of Nazis that worship Slenderman b/c they think he's Hitler and apparently I took that as a challenge... I think I understand why 90% of the Tumblr side of the fandom hates me


	22. Arrested For YouTube Crimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sad and Angery about the recent news on Count Dankula and I cope w/ both of these emotions with humor so take this hot garbage

Milo Asher had a problem. It was something that most wouldn't consider a problem, but for him it was. You see, recently his mother had been getting along really well with his cat, Oscar. He had to sit through her ranting and raving about how adorable it was. And, of course he agreed, but Oscar wasn't hers, now was he?

Now, one might still ask what the big deal is. She liked his pet, that should have been a good thing, right? It would have been, except for the fact that he absolutely couldn't fucking stand her. He hated her for more reasons than he could bother counting, and the thought of her getting all friendly with his baby was pissing him off.

Obviously, he couldn't just tell her to fuck off. That could blow up in his face in multiple ways. He still lived under her roof after all, and he didn't know what she'd do if he actually confronted her about this. He didn't want to find out either. So, what was he going to do about it, then?

His first thought was to try and train Oscar to dislike her, but that plan fell apart when he realized he actually had no idea how to do that without provoking her. If he tried doing that then she'd be mad at him and would get back at him somehow, and he definitely didn't want that.

So, that left him with one other option. He had to train Oscar in a way that would make him completely unlikable to her. Sure, that could still backfire against him, but it had less of a chance to, and it would be more fun.

How was he going to do this though, you might wonder. What exactly was he going to teach Oscar to do? Well, he had an idea. He wanted to turn Oscar into the least cute thing he could think of, and the first thing that came to mind when he thought that was a Nazi.

It wasn't exactly easy, cats were difficult to train and he had to make sure he didn't get caught, but he managed it. And it was god damn glorious.

He first unveiled what he did one day while Mary was lounging on the couch with him on her lap. He was nearby and he looked over at the two of them before speaking in a typical excited, playful voice you'd use when speaking to a pet.

"Hey, Oscar. You wanna gas the Jews?"

In response to this, the cat's ears perked up and he snapped his attention over to Milo.

Milo repeated the question a few more times, eventually Oscar hopped off of Mary and over to him, looking up at him with a bright, very interested face.

Eventually Oscar got so excited at the sentence that he was almost jumping with glee as he circled his owner.

Mary looked pissed, but didn't say anything as she watched them.

Milo repeated this process multiple times throughout the week, always making sure Mary was there to see it. Each time she witnessed it, she seemed even more pissed, and he absolutely loved it.

He almost always picked a time when both her and Oscar were just relaxing, that way it would interrupt their time together. Sometimes he even did it when the little guy was asleep, even then he'd still wake up and react to it.

Sometimes, all he had to say was the word 'Jews' and it would elicit a response from Oscar.

One time Oscar had been in a deep sleep. Milo had tried rousing him by nudging him and telling him it was time to get up, which got him nothing. As soon as he asked the question though, Oscar's eyes were wide open.

He wasn't exactly the most edgy kid, but he had to admit that this was kind of funny just by itself, and seeing Mary's reactions to it made it even better.

For example, one time he had Oscar sit down and watch a Hitler speech. Although, maybe watch wasn't the right word, he mostly just sat in front of the screen while it played. Nonetheless, he was pretty sure that was her breaking point, as when she saw it she stormed out of his room, and he heard the door to her own slam shut. He almost cried with laughter, quite honestly.

The next day she seemed less angry and more annoyed and tired. It took him pulling the 'gas the jews' trick again for her to speak though.

"Milo, at this point that's literally the most unfunny thing you could do." The way she looked at him it seemed like she legitimately had a headache from his shit.

"Understandable. Do you want me to have him do something else?" Milo couldn't hide the overly snarky grin as he spoke. "I taught him to do more than one thing."

"No matter how I answer that question, you're going to do it anyway, so sure."

She was god damn right about that. He looked down at Oscar and waited for a moment, perhaps to build suspense, before doing it. "Hey. Hey, sieg heil."

In response to this, the cat extended one of its paws into the air for a few seconds. It could easily be passed off as it just pawing at something, but it being in response to those words made it perfect.

Mary's response was just as good as he'd hoped. She buried her face in her hands, letting out a loud sigh. She also may have muttered something about him being a lost cause, but he was too busy laughing to hear it properly.

He said it a few more times, causing Oscar to repeat the action. At some point Mary got up and left, actually left the house. That was enough to make this legitimately hysterical to him.

In the days following that, she stopped trying to be friends with Oscar. Sometimes he'd go over to her of his own accord, which would prompt Milo to say one of the two trigger phrases, causing her to either get up or push him away.

And just like that, his problem was solved. Mary now couldn't stand Oscar, and on top of that he had a new way to amuse himself.

He decided not to show this trick to Kevin, and definitely not to Noah. This was just going to be their family secret.


	23. Collective Kinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... at first I was gonna try to actually be funny and make a chapter of the Collective members kink shaming each other and all that. I couldn't really think of a way to do that though, so,,,,, take this instead I guess. Not including Persolus b/c he's like 100 & his dick probably doesn't work anymore  
> Things that are in italics/bold/etc are things that they're More Into than the other things on their respective lists. Feel 100% free to kink shame any and all of them in the comments, they all deserve it

Mr Scars(Getting the Big Guy out of the way first lmao)

  
\- **_Choking_**

\- Sensory deprivation

\- Hentai

\- **_Pain_**

\- Edging

\- Overstimulation

\- Praise

\- Degradation too

\- _The Fucking Daddy Kink_

\- Collars( _Especially shock collars_ )

\- _Shocking in general too, actually_

\- _Tentacles_

\- _Biting(And just leaving marks in general)_

\- _Being bound/Tied down_

\- _Any form of whipping_

\- _Spanking_

\- _General dirty talk tbh_

\- Temperature-play

\- Being ordered around

\- _The concept of being 'used'_

_\- Hair pulling_

_- Knife-play_

_- Giving the Succ(Not really a Kink exactly, but he enjoys it so much that it may as well be one)_

\- Xeno(If an alien or monster wanted to do its fucked up mating ritual or lay eggs in him or whatever he'd be down. Or if it was just something as simple as getting to fuck something that had Freaky Alien/Monster Genitals he'd be down)

\- I feel like there should be more here but I can't really think of any more

 

 

Firebrand(And probably any part of the Noah line, whether they know it yet or not)

\- _**Tentacles**_

\- _**"Good boy"**_

\- _Praise in general tbh_

\- _Pet play_

\- Not really a kink, but Sappy Feelings during sex

 

Observer

\- _Praise_

\- **_Overstimulation_**

\- _Just being pushed to/past his limit in general tbh_

\- Hair pulling

\- _Being ordered around_

 

Deadhead

\- _**Adolf Hitler(Why yes that is a kink)**_

\- Being tied up/Physically Restricted

\- _Guns and Gun Play_

\- _Legs(He likes those Exposed Leggies. He also really likes Thigh High Socks and Panty Hose)_

\- Praise(Especially if it's from... _ **u know who**_ )

 

Swain

\- Hentai

\- _**Traps(He swears that he's not gay though)**_

\- _Hot wax_

\- _Temperature-play in general, honestly_

\- Rough shit, whether he's on the giving or receiving end(Although he enjoys it more if he's on the giving end)

\- _Dirty talk_

_\- Daddy Kink(Only if he's the one being called Daddy tho)_

 

Cursor(I usually try not to think about what she likes tbh, but I can't just not include her)

\- _Daddy Kink_

\- General BDSM type shit(Like tying people up/being tied up, whipping, u know)

\- _Telling people what to do/Giving orders_

\- _Just really likes being the one in control in general tbh_

\- Receiving the Succ(Or... Slurp I guess, since she doesn't have a dick)

\- _Praise_

\- Dirty Talking/Degrading Others(This mixed with the Italic Underlined shit makes her sound like some sorta Dominatrix type bitch.... don't know how to feel about that)

 

That's....... all. I'm sorry for making y'all read this. In my defense, I had to put all this somewhere or I'd probably forget


	24. Cousins?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like 3 serious things I should be working on, but I had the thought "this person looks a lot like deadhead" and I dropped everything to write this

Unlike most Collective members, Deadhead actually had a pretty good family life. Back when he and his family were still alive, he had been very close with his mother, and his father had been present and supportive. He didn't have any siblings, but he felt that if he did he would have been close with those too. He felt that family was a very important aspect of life, and when he first started talking to other members he had a hard time grasping how they could think so negatively about their families.

It wasn't that he didn't try either, he listened and supported them the best he could, but he just could not understand it. He found himself harboring very negative feelings toward the parents of the others, since clearly they had done a very terrible job at parenting. These feelings were mostly directed at a certain mother who was also a Collective member, honestly, since that was the best example of a bad parent he could think of.

He usually tried not to think of her though, he didn't like the feelings that brought.

Considering Mr. Scars was the member he most frequently talked about these sort of things with, that was easier said than done.

They didn't always talk about parents though thankfully, and when Scars spoke it wasn't always negative. For example, what he could remember of his father was good, and he'd had a fairly good relationship with his step-father, for the most part.

The familial relationship of his that was the best though was undoubtedly the one he had with his cousin. The two of them were like siblings. Despite almost never getting to see each other, they as close as you could get. Even now, when it was legitimately dangerous for them to see each other, they were as close as ever.

This made Deadhead happy, the fact that Scars at least had someone in his family he could rely on was a very good thing. Even though Deadhead didn't like Scars' cousin, he really liked seeing the other member happy, and his cousin certainly did make him happy.

Deadhead had his reasons for not liking Firebrand. Most would consider these reasons completely unreasonable, perhaps a bit bigoted, but that didn't change the fact that he had them. Besides, it wasn't like he went out of his way to cause harm or distress to Firebrand. Actually, because of his friendship with Scars, he was one of the only members who tried to avoid doing that.

He'd thought that he knew all the reasons why he disliked the other. After all, it wasn't like he had very many. As it turned out though, unbeknownst to him, he had more reasons than he initially thought. He wasn't aware at first, but a conversation with Scars made him realize that he just did not like cousins.

It had started innocently enough, they'd been having one of their typical conversations, and Scars had casually asked him if he had any cousins.

At first, he was going to answer no, since as far as he knew he didn't. Before he could say anything though, a wave of memories hit him, rendering him speechless.

Of course, this worried Scars. Prolonged silence after a question never meant something good. "Dude, you okay?" This was met with nothing but a blank stare, which only scared him more. "Listen, if that's a sore subject then you don't have to answer, we can talk about something else."

"It's... fine." He was pretty sure that it was, anyway. "It's just that I do have one, him and I are just.. not on the best terms." That was putting it lightly, he absolutely hated his cousin. So much that he apparently had repressed the memory of ever having one.

"Oh, sorry man." Scars did seem legitimately sorry for bringing it up. That wasn't going to stop him from asking more questions though. "What happened between you guys?"

"Nothing in particular, it's just.." He hesitated a bit, he wasn't sure if he really wanted to get into this. Or rather if he could get into it. He was going to try though. "He is just an absolutely abhorrent person, he always was and it only got worse with age."

This of course prompted Scars to ask what made the guy so bad, what he did.

"He is an absolute degenerate, the worst of the worst, and that's coming from me." Deadhead knew that the word 'degenerate' could accurately describe himself, and described Scars to a T, but his cousin was seriously on a whole new level.

Truthfully, he wasn't actually sure if the person was really his cousin. He wasn't sure how exactly they were related, he just knew that they were, and that was the word that the fucker used to describe himself, so that's what he went with.

That wasn't important though. What was important was how completely unlikable the guy was.

"Come on, he can't be that bad." Scars remarked, understandably skeptical. "What's he into?"

"I would very much rather not go into detail about what he likes." Just thinking about it made his skin crawl, quite honestly. "But I can say that he has made a career out of his degeneracy, so it wouldn't surprise me if you've heard his name before."

Scars thought for a few moments about that hint. "What is he, like a prostitute, or a camwhore or something?"

"Not quite, no." Deadhead would have no real reason to dislike him if that was all he did. "He likes to call himself and his coworkers 'artists', but that could not be farther from the truth."

"So... him and his friends draw gross porn?" Scars asked, the gears in his head clearly turning, trying to figure out who this person was.

"To put it simply, yes." That was an extremely simplified way of putting it, but Scars was pretty much exactly right. "Some of the things he draws could be considered illegal according to the laws of many countries, but so far that hasn't stopped him."

Scars nodded in response, not saying anything. He looked like the answer to who this was seemed to be right on the tip of his tongue, he was focusing very hard on trying to connect the dots.

 

"He also likes to think that he's a comedian, but he's the most unfunny person I've ever met." Deadhead was getting ready to just go into a complete rant. It had been ages since he'd had to think of this person and doing so now did not make him happy. "All his humor relies on shock, mainly of a sexual nature, and it's all just the same jokes told slightly differently each time. Not only is it never funny, but half the time it's legitimately disturbing."

"I want to say that his political ideology is his one redeeming factor, but he can't even get that right." Yeah, Deadhead was actually getting kind of pissed just talking about this, definitely. "He only uses it as an aesthetic, he doesn't actually follow it in the slightest, and he goes out of his way to bastardize it whenever he gets the chance."

"He is the main reason I've stopped wearing my uniform, quite honestly." The uniform in question being his SS uniform, which he did still own. "We just look too alike, and he always wears his, so I can't risk looking any more like him than I already do."

Before Deadhead could go any farther into his ranting, Scars spoke up. "Oh shit wait, are you talking about Shadman?"

Deadhead stayed paused for a few moments. There was more that he wanted to say, but his train of thought was completely interrupted. He decided the rest could wait until later. "Ah, so you have heard of him."

"Heard of him? I've known about him for years, I have his site bookmarked and everything, I-" He stopped rather abruptly when he noticed the look he was being given. They met each others eyes, waiting to see who'd speak first.

"Scars, please don't tell me that you actually like his content." Deadhead liked Scars, and he didn't want to start anything, but this seemed very hard to excuse.

"I mean yeah, some of it." Scars responded as if it wasn't a big deal, and likely would have left it at that if it weren't for the look of utter disgust in Deadhead's eyes. "Listen, I know he has a bad rap, but it's not as bad as it seems."

"Ignoring the fact that I know him personally, does he not have an entire category dedicated to bestiality on his site?" The fact that he sounded so calm was honestly a miracle.

"Okay yeah, but I don't look at that shit."

"He also is a lolicon."

"No shit, that's like, what he's known for." Scars waved it off like it was nothing. "But I don't look at that shit either."

"And you don't see it as a problem?"

"I mean, kind of, but it's not really my business." Scars just shrugged. "Besides, it doesn't make the regular shit he makes less good."

Deadhead couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was hands down the worst interaction he'd had with Scars so far.

"Also no offense, but he's kinda fucking hilarious."

"....Scars, I am trying very hard to hear you out here, but everything you've been saying is completely wrong and also horrible."

Another shrug from Scars. "Fair enough, you don't gotta like him, different strokes for different folks you know."

"I am struggling to understand how you could possibly like him." He knew that Scars had very few limits with what he enjoyed, but this seemed bad even for him.

Luckily, Scars was willing to explain. "He has variety in his stuff, which is cool, and his art style is also pretty damn nice."

As was stated before, these were both things that Deadhead heavily disagreed with. Though to be fair, he did go out of his way to never look at any of his cousin's content. He wasn't going to stop doing that now, no matter what Scars said.

"I can definitely see why you wouldn't like him though." At least he was being somewhat understanding. "I probably shouldn't tell you, but Swain agrees with me."

Never mind, that was the opposite of understanding. In fact, that might have been one of the worst things Deadhead had ever heard. "....He what?"

"Yeah, Shad draws real nice traps, and you know that Swain's all about that."

Deadhead didn't know that, actually. He also didn't need to know that, his life was much better before he'd learned that information.

"I also think Swain likes some of his normal porn, but I don't know, never really asked."

Deadhead wasn't sure if that was better or worse than the last thing that was said. He didn't really care, it was all awful.

This went on for a bit. It took a while of rambling without getting a response, but eventually Scars shut up. Kind of. "You good?" Clearly the answer was no, but he still had to ask.

Deadhead didn't reply for a while, just sitting and contemplating everything he'd heard. When he did speak though, it was with purpose and force. "....I'm going to kill Shadman with my bare fucking hands, and then myself."


	25. Vati

As much as Mr Scars loved Deadhead, sometimes he just had to mess with him. It wasn't anything too bad, mostly just teasing and banter, the type of thing you'd expect friends to do. Scars teased his other friends too, not that he had very many, but still. It was just something he did. They got to get him back too, he wasn't the type to dish something out and not be willing to take the same thing in return, it was a mutual thing.

He always made sure not to go too far, of course. There was a fine line between playful 'bullying' and actual bullying, and since he knew what actual bullying felt like, he wasn't going to be a dick and subject other people to it.

Most of his material when messing with Deadhead were soft jabs at his ideology. Things like 'you say hitler did nothing wrong, but last time i checked he lost the war' and 'dude didn't hitler invade russia in the winter? stupid ass'. You know, things like that. In return, he would let Deadhead talk shit about his cousin, so long as it didn't get too serious and the things said didn't delve into bigoted territory.

He also would poke fun at Deadhead's English skills. He knew the other was a bit sensitive about this topic, so he didn't do this too much, and when he did he made it clear that he was joking. After all, the last thing he wanted was to actually discourage his friend. In return, he would actually help Deadhead with areas of the language he had trouble with. Not that he wouldn't do this anyway, it just usually happened after he did this, so it may as well have been in return.

Aside from those two things, he didn't do anything overly specific, pretty much just the type of shit you'd expect. At least, he didn't until he figured out something new about Deadhead, and that was the fact that he absolutely hated the word 'daddy'.

How did he find this out, you might ask. Well, exactly how you'd think, which was by calling Deadhead daddy. He'd mostly been joking when he did it, but that didn't stop his fellow Collective member from getting his feathers ruffled over it. Not the flustered type either, but the genuine discomfort type.

For a moment, he felt bad for making his buddy feel uncomfortable. That didn't last long though, because the reaction he got was absolutely hilarious. And besides, it didn't seem to cause extreme discomfort. So, after the moment of guilt had passed, he decided that Daddy would be one of his new nicknames for Deadhead.

The reactions really were golden. Whenever he did this, Deadhead would pause whatever he was doing to give Scars a very stern glare. Scars, of course, would double down with something like 'what's wrong, daddy?', which would normally result in Deadhead pulling his hood over his face and groaning, and then telling him to shut his damn mouth.

A few times, Deadhead responded as if he were actually Scars' father. He'd say things like 'you are a horrible, insolent child' and 'i knew i shouldn't have turned down the offer for an abortion'. Needless to say, these incidents almost left Scars in tears.

After a while though, he got responses less and less, and admittedly the joke became less funny as time passed, so after a certain point he stopped. As much as he liked this, he knew when to let a joke die, and he figured that he may as well quit while he was ahead rather than risk crossing the line between mildly annoying and insufferable.

He wasn't the best at telling time in this realm, but he wanted to say that he stopped for nearly a year. He'd planned to stop for good and had no real intentions of bringing this back. Things likely would have stayed that way if it weren't for more newfound knowledge he'd obtained.

He wasn't exactly sure how, but one time while talking to Swain he ended up learning the German word for daddy. Of course, knowing this made him immensely happy.

Also of course, this knowledge gave him an idea, a horrible idea. He couldn't help but think, Deadhead hated hearing the word with the context Scars gave it in English, so naturally his hatred for it would only be worse if he heard it in his native language.

Maybe he was a bad person, but Scars couldn't stop himself from snickering at the thought. He could only assume that it was going to be fucking great.

As it turned out, his assumption was correct. The fact this his execution when he pulled this stunt was flawless definitely helped.

He waited until the other was distracted, catching up on some reading to be specific. He took a seat next to him and as smoothly as he could manage said "So, how you doing, Vati?"

Deadhead froze, his grip on his book tightening. When he spoke, it was in a hushed tone. "What the fuck did you just call me?"

Scars nearly died right there, somehow managing to hold his laughter in and instead give a very cheeky grin. "What do you mean, is there something wrong?"

"You know exactly what you are doing."

"Well yeah, I just wanna check in and see how my favorite vati is feeling, is that so wrong?" He tried to sound as innocent as possible, acting like he genuinely didn't see the problem.

Deadhead looked like he was going to say something, but he stopped himself and took a breath. "Ignoring the context in which you're using it, that word sounds absolutely horrible with your accent."

"Aw, dude come on." Scars managed a frown, pretending he was actually offended. "I don't talk shit on your accent when you say words from my language."

"That is because you know that my accent is inherently superior." The way it was being said, it was clear that Deadhead actually believed this.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Scars paused for dramatic effect. ".....Vati."

Deadhead shut his book, hard enough that it was almost slammed shut. "You are by far the worst child I could have ever asked for, why can't you be more like your brother?" Despite clearly being legitimately annoyed, he was playing along, which was a good sign.

Scars knew that the 'brother' that was being referred to was Observer, which only made that response that much better. "You say that like I'm not obviously the favorite."

"You wish." Deadhead rolled his eyes. "At least he behaves himself and shows some respect."

Observer did neither of those things for anyone who wasn't the Admin. "Yeah, but he doesn't love you as much as me, vati." Scars batted his eyelashes in a way that could be taken as flirtatious, slipping the word in again, not wanting to get too off track.

"If you really loved me then you wouldn't call me such vile things." Deadhead crossed his arms, almost sulking.

"Fair enough, would you prefer if I switched back over to daddy?" Scars asked, as if he wouldn't keep this shit up no matter what answer he got.

"I would highly prefer if you just stopped speaking to me forever."

"Come on, don't be like that." He placed his hand on one of Deadhead's. "Uncle Swain lets me talk to him like this."

"I need you to understand that every single word you just said was awful."

"Sometimes he even calls me 'baby boy' too." This was a lie, but that didn't make it any less humorous to Scars.

"I didn't think your words could get worse but here we are."

"Sometimes he'll even bust out the German words for it." Of course, Scars couldn't even begin to guess what those words were, but still.

"I am literally begging you to stop talking."

"One time he even let me call him Papa."

"That's it, no, this conversation is over." After speaking, Deadhead flipped his book back open to what was probably the page he'd been on before. Not that it mattered with how many times he'd read this particular book, but still.

"Actually, I think we have more to discuss." Scars had a feeling it actually wasn't going to last much longer, but he was going to drag this out for as long as he could.

"I can hear the words you are saying, but I refuse to listen enough to process them."

He knew that was a lie, probably. Whether it was or not, he had plenty more material. "You know, Swain is really cool, not only does he let me call him whatever I want, but sometimes he'll call me 'kiddo'."

In response to this, Deadhead started reading aloud in an attempt to drown out Scars' voice.

That didn't stop him at first, but the more he said the louder Deadhead got. Eventually he physically couldn't make himself talk loud enough without actually screaming, and as great as this was it wasn't worth yelling and potentially fucking up his vocal cords over.

So, after a couple minutes he decided to actually shut the fuck up. He didn't leave though, mostly because he hadn't really had anything else planned for the day and if he were to leave he'd be by himself with nothing to do.

He decided to settle himself more comfortably next to Deadhead, who glared over at him before continuing what he was doing, much quieter now but not silently.

Scars didn't mind. He may have if he actually understood what was being said, but since he didn't this just let him listen to the admittedly soothing sound of Deadhead's voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: finally, a chapter with deadhead where i don't have to reference hitler  
> me, 3 paragraphs in:  
> Honestly though, I've wanted to do something like this since I learned the word Vati, which was over a year ago tbh. Not sure why it took me so long to think of smth. I also hope you know that every time I typed the word 'friend' all I could think was 'lmao yeah right, pal'


	26. Mustache

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking about Milo/Scars' little chin scruff of a beard and somehow that led to the creation of this Extremely Cursed AU

Milo was about fifteen when he first started growing facial hair. He could still remember the first time he noticed it. He'd just been going about his morning routine, as usual, and he didn't notice anything off until he made his way to the bathroom, where he happened to pass by a mirror.

He noticed one or two little bits of hair on his upper lip. It wasn't much, it was actually so little that it was easy to miss, but when he saw he couldn't help being really happy about it. Sure there wasn't much, but it was something, and any teenage boy was happy to see that they'd reached the point in their life where their face actually started growing hair. 

Needless to say, he showed it off a bit. Not much at first, since there wasn't much to really show off, but after there was enough to be seen. The reactions were about how you'd expect them to be. Kevin was happy for him, so was his cousin. His mom didn't really give a shit, but she humored him slightly.

He didn't stay happy about this for too long.

For a while he shaved since that's what you were supposed to do, and he didn't want to look like some sort of bum. He never really let it grow out, cutting it off before it could get to what he would consider a less than socially acceptable length.

One time though, he decided to see what would happen if he just let it grow. This would be the only time he ever did it.

He'd kind of expected it to be short and kind of scruffy, but still cover enough to be considered a full mustache. He also wouldn't have been surprised if it just ended up gross, uneven and patchy. He probably would've preferred either of those over what he got.

He kept an eye on it as it grew, and for a while he couldn't help but think that what it seemed to be growing into seemed....familiar, in a way. He pushed the thought of familiarity away though, because of course it wasn't growing how he thought it was, that would be impossible.

It should have been, at least. He found himself very unpleasantly surprised when his suspicions were confirmed to be completely correct.

One day, he found himself gazing into the mirror. On his face was a choppy, almost square shaped mustache, right in the middle of his lip.

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He muttered to himself as he saw it. He also felt it for good measure, to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

This confirmed that yes, what he saw was in fact real, to his disappointment. All he could really do was stare at it for a while.

He wanted to shave the fucker off, but his disbelief was strong enough to prevent him from doing so.

Why him? What was he supposed to do with this? He couldn't show it to anyone, he had enough problems with bullies already and surely this would add fuel to that. A few people were already saying that he looked like a school shooter, he didn't need people telling him that he looked like Hitler too.

He especially couldn't show it to either of his friends. Well, he could, and maybe they'd find it funny. That didn't seem likely though, for some reason he couldn't see his black best friend and his Jewish cousin finding this particularly humorous. In fact, he felt like they'd be insulted at it, and maybe think that he made it this way on purpose.

He thought about what his mother would do if she saw him trying to leave the house with this thing on his face. Then he felt realization hit him, and with that came anger. 

Son of a _bitch_. So this was why she'd been looking at him the way that she had for the past few weeks, why she'd been snickering at him too. She _knew_. She knew this was going to happen, and she hadn't bothered saying a god damn word to him in warning. He was going to kick her ass.

Okay, not really, he didn't actually want to hurt his mother. He did want to have a word with her though, an explanation perhaps. Why had she not warned him when she noticed what was happening? Why were the genes in their family like this? Which side of the family did he even get this from?

Yes, he had many questions prepared for her, questions that he'd hopefully be calm enough to properly ask.

Not now though, he wasn't going to bother her just yet. First, he was going to get this _thing_ off of his face. He wanted it gone as soon as possible, and it was obvious that she'd know what he was bothering her about whether it was there or not.

He'd been keeping his friends updated on its progress though, so they might be somewhat confused when they saw him without a trace of it. That would be fine though, he could just say that it ended up being really ugly and leave it at that. They would never have to know how atrocious it actually was.

He was going to make sure that he never had to see it again too. He didn't care if he looked baby-faced for the rest of his life, that would be better than looking like a genocidal dictator. If everything went as planned, the knowledge of this would only ever be known by him and his mother. If things didn't go as planned though? Well, he supposed he'd die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people: *draw milo w/ a soul patch*  
> me: n i c e  
> my mind: what if it was a bit higher,,, on his Lip  
> me: haha nice........oh no  
> Fkdjfkg this is so fuckin dumb, but after it entered my mind I just couldn't stop thinking about it


	27. Death Anniversary

At first, Scars hadn't been aware of what day it was. He had no reason to. Honestly, why would he want to keep track of such a depressing day? 

Even if he wanted to for whatever reason, it wasn't like he remembered the specific date that it happened on. He hadn't bothered checking his fucking calendar before dying, he hadn't known with certainty that he would die on that day.

For the most part, he didn't think about his death much at all. At least, as little as he could manage. When he was first assimilated that was easier said than done, since it was fresh in his memory. The longer he was in the Collective realm though, the easier it got to ignore, to push out of his mind. It got to the point where the only time he really thought about his death was when he was forced awake by memory-like nightmares about it, and even then he'd force the thoughts out of his mind as soon as possible, make himself find a distraction and something else to focus on.

For a while, this worked. It worked better than his solutions to nearly any of his other problems. Not to say that it was better for him than the way he solved his other problems, both because many of his methods of distraction were the same coping mechanisms he used for everything else, and because just in general forcing yourself not to think about or deal with things probably wasn't good. Not that he cared though, as long as he was successful in not having to think about it that was all that mattered.

This would've likely worked for a long time, as long as he needed, if he hadn't been reminded of the day by an outside force.

That outside force's name was Observer. Even before this, Scars did not like Observer. Observer was a cunt. This only solidified that fact.

Observer had greeted him that day with the usual annoying grin and obnoxious snickering, the kind that meant he was up to something. He looked way too happy to be around the other rook, the same kind of happiness as when he was tormenting Noah.

Needless to say, these things together meant that Scars wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Nothing Observer did in this state was pleasant, it was quite the opposite in fact, and Scars didn't want to deal with it.

Sadly for him, he wasn't being given a choice. Observer wasn't going to leave him alone, that fucker was determined. Not that Scars made much of an effort to get away or avoid him, he was annoyed sure, but couldn't be bothered putting in the effort to be left alone. He figured he could just wait until Observer got bored and left.

As it turned out, this was a terrible decision on his part.

Observer started their chain of interaction with a far too cheery "So, big day huh?"

Scars of course had no idea what he was talking about, and voiced that rather well. He had no plans for the day, and clearly if Observer was bothering him neither did that shadowy fuck.

For a moment, Observer looked almost personally offended by Scars' confusion. "You mean you don't even remember?" He asked in disbelief. "I thought that you of all people would keep track of this."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Scars responded, starting to actually get frustrated. "What am I supposed to be keeping track of?" He knew that he didn't have anything special or important planned, he actually couldn't see what made today different from any other day.

Luckily, or rather unluckily, Observer had him covered. Kind of. "I'm just saying, with how much you go on about wanting to die, I would think you'd be able to remember the one time you actually _did_ die."

Scars was about to snap at Observer again, momentarily still confused. After a few seconds though, it hit him. When it did, the anger started to fall from his face, leaving it basically blank. "...Oh."

The other Collective member, oblivious as ever, decided this was a prompt to keep going. "Hey, now you're getting it!" He patted Scars on the back in a congratulatory way. "Good thing I'm here to remind you of these things, or you might've never remembered."

As if that would've been a bad thing. Scars was now far too aware of the pain in in his throat, and the fact that breathing was more difficult than it should've been. There was also how breathing hurt, especially with how hard he had to do it to get air through his fucked up windpipe. 

Becoming aware of these things only made him start breathing harder. He wasn't sure if this was a natural response out of panic or a genuine attempt to get more air. He supposed it didn't really matter, since either way the result was the same.

As expected, this only caused the pain that was already there to get worse. Not to mention the breaths he was taking weren't exactly even, which made it so he was getting less air than before. At least it definitely felt like he was getting less. The lump that had started forming in his throat didn't exactly help any of this, nor did the way his stomach started to turn.

Observer was still talking, but honestly Scars couldn't hear him, not really. He wasn't sure if this was because the sound of his own breathing was just that loud, or because he was suddenly too fucked up to process the words. Not that it mattered, he couldn't focus on that enough to really think about it anyway.

Apparently, Observer was having the same amount of trouble focusing. Well, not really, he was just continuing to be fucking oblivious. It wasn't even that he wasn't paying attention to Scars, he was looking at the other member. He just couldn't tell that what he was saying was having such an effect.

To his credit, it might not have been extremely easy to notice, especially if you weren't experienced in dealing with emotions. Double especially if you weren't experienced in dealing with Scars' emotions specifically, which he kind of wasn't. Sure, he knew how to deal with Scars' anger, since that was the emotion he got out of the other the most often, and he had a slight understanding of how to handle Scars' default mood, but aside from that he hadn't seen much of the other member's feelings, so he didn't quite know how to spot them.

So, at first when he noticed that Scars was blank-faced and breathing heavier than usual, he assumed this was an expression of anger. He expected that any second he'd be told to shut his fucking mouth, maybe he'd get shoved around a bit, which was honestly his goal. Pissing Scars off was fun, and honestly pretty hilarious.

What he didn't expect was to continue getting no reaction. When he took a closer look at Scars, he noticed many other things he didn't expect. The first was exactly how hard the other was breathing, and how shallow the breaths had gotten. That couldn't have been good, he had to have been making himself light-headed.

The second being the fact that Scars was actually trembling. It was subtle, but it was definitely happening. 

The third thing was how glassy Scars' stare was. It was like he was staring at nothing, not to mention the beginnings of tears starting to form.

After taking all of these things in, it occurred to Observer that he'd fucked up. He wasn't sure at what exact point, maybe it was bringing up this topic at all, he hadn't been paying enough attention to really tell. What he was sure of was that he had to fight his own urge to panic and do something about it before it escalated.

Knowing how Scars was, it likely wouldn't take long for it to get worse, and once it did it'd get _a lot_ worse. Observer didn't want that, especially considering how bad Scars' self destructive tendencies normally were, he didn't want to think about how bad things could get if the other member was just left like this.

There was one problem though, that problem being that he had no idea how he was supposed to fix this situation. He could barely regulate his own emotions, how was he supposed to help with someone else's?

Still, unless he wanted to witness a full on breakdown, or worse, he had to do something.

He decided to stop thinking so much about it and go with his first instinct. He grabbed Scars' wrists, pulling a bit at his hands, which were digging into his interlocked arms.

He wasn't met with much resistance, though Scars did flinch a bit, almost as if he'd forgotten Observer was there.

The next thing he did was tell Scars to calm down. Maybe not the best move, he possibly could've chose better wording than just that, but he knew that if he put too much thought into what he was doing then he wouldn't manage to do anything. He was more or less on autopilot, like when he was doing the work assigned to him by the Keeper.

He repeated his request a few times, telling the still somewhat panicked rook that he was going to suffocate himself if he kept breathing like that. Gave him brief instructions on how he should be doing it, since it seemed Scars wasn't in the right state to figure it out himself. 

To make things easier he helped get Scars into a sitting position, since standing was probably taking some effort as well. He sat down with him to make this process easier on himself too. 

At some point during this, Scars actually did start crying. At that point he was all-there enough to realize it and he turned away, attempting to hide the fact that he was doing it.

With one hand Observer kept hold of one of the taller member's wrists, rubbing circles into it with his thumb. With the other he cupped Scars' face, wiping away tears and forcing them to face each other. He was more focused on what he was doing now, which was kind of uncomfortable, but the fact that Scars was considerably more calm helped. That let him know that he was doing something right.

After this point, it didn't take long for things to wind down. Despite his tears, and the fact that he was still shaking, Scars did feel...better? His emotions were pretty mixed, but he did certainly prefer this over the spiral of panic he'd nearly fallen into.

He wasn't happy with Observer, but he did appreciate the physical comfort. Part of him wanted to be more mad over this incident than he was, but quite honestly he was kind of exhausted, physically and emotionally, he couldn't muster the energy for any real anger. The fact that Server had actually stayed to help him also made it harder to stay mad.

He didn't like the fact that Observer was seeing him cry like a bitch, but he was more upset with himself for that than anything. It was hard to dwell on it too much though, considering how bad he felt in general.

After a while he was able to stop, for the most part. He was able to quiet himself down to just sniffles, and there were no more fresh tears falling. He wasn't sure if this was because he'd actually willed himself to stop or because his body was too tired to keep crying. He didn't really care, honestly.

After he was mostly settled, Observer spoke in a voice that was a lot softer than what he was accustomed to. "Better?"

He just nodded in response, not wanting to agitate his throat any farther by speaking.

Observer fidgeted, trying to figure out what to do next. It was clear he wasn't used to this sort of thing. He was trying though. "I, uh.. sorry?" He uttered out a less than impressive apology.

In response, Scars leaned farther into the hand that was still on his face, making a sort of dismissive noise. He figured that was as good a way as any of letting it be known that he wasn't mad.

For a second Observer's eyes widened, as if he'd forgotten his hand was there at all. He didn't pull away though, taking that as a good sign. "Are you alright?"

The only answer Scars gave was a nod. He didn't exactly feel great, kind of like shit really, but he knew he'd feel better soon, likely after finding something to distract him from the fact that this had even happened.

Observer meanwhile was fighting down the urge to ask if Scars was sure he was fine, and also if he was sure he wasn't mad. He knew that too many questions would just be annoying. Still, on top of that, he felt like he should be doing more. Sure, Scars was calmed down and all, but it didn't feel like quite enough. For a short while he was stumped, just sitting there wracking his brain. Then he got a wonderful idea.

Well, he thought it was pretty great, and he hoped that once it was put in action the person he was doing it to would agree.

He let go of Scars' wrist and pulled his hand free. He could tell from the look he was given that Scars thought this meant he was leaving, or something to that effect.

As admittedly tempting as that seemed, since this whole experience wasn't exactly easy for him, what he ended up doing was kind of the opposite of that.

He moved so that instead of being in front of Scars, the two of them were next to each other. He went to wrap an arm across his fellow member, but paused for a moment, looking at Scars for clarification that this was okay.

Once he got a nod of approval, he pulled the other close. As he expected, since Scars had been reacting well to the other bits of physical contact, he reacted well to this too.

Normally Scars wouldn't enjoy this, like at all. Under regular circumstances, any physical contact with Observer was bad, especially something that made them have to be this close. This time though, it was relaxing in a way, which was very relieving considering how hard his heart was still hammering. Even if he didn't want to he wouldn't be able to stop himself from practically melting into it. 

He wrapped his arm around Observer in return and started leaning him too. It was then when it hit him just how tired he was, which was enough that he felt like he actually wanted to sleep. Here might not have been the best place, but Observer didn't seem to mind.

In fact, the other rook helped adjust their position so that Scars' head was resting on his lap. 

It didn't take long for Scars to fall asleep on him, and Observer was resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to be able to move for a while. He just hoped that the Keeper didn't want him to do anything anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As far as I can remember, this is my first time writing any hurt/comfort type shit and I feel like it's, how do you say,,,,,Bad. I had to do something for Mr Scars' death anniversary though & a friend gave me this idea so, u know


	28. Trollsonas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a filthy fucking Homestuck and this is honestly just a shameless plug for my various(2) trollsonas. They're probably Bad but I Love Them

**#1**  
The more serious one first

Name: Lovthe Cronch(Because she...well.. she loves the crunch)

Gender: Female

Typing Quirk: Doesn't use the letter E. Also replaces the letter U with O

Blood Color: Purple

Lusus: Manatee(Sea-Cow Mom)

Dream Self: Prospit

Sign: ???(The only one from the Official Extended Zodiac that fits her is True Capricorn, and idk if I want her to be That. I also haven't looked enough for Alternate Signs to find a non-official one for her)

Weapon: Chains(She usually wraps them around whoever she's against and uses them to squeeze, constricting and crushing the person to death. If she can't do this then she's fine with just beating the person instead)

God Tier: Witch of Rage

Appearance: Like nearly all purple-bloods, she wears face paint. Hers covers her whole face, with spots of varying size speckled across where the paint isn't there. Her hair is thick and curly, about shoulder length and usually pretty unkempt. Her horns are oval shaped, but there are many nicks and marks where parts of them have been chipped off

Personality/Lifestyle Details: She is generally a pretty optimistic person, usually seen with a smile on her face. She is also pretty chill and casual, for the most part, to the extent that she tends to not stress over things too much. That isn't to say it's hard to upset her, there are many things that anger her, she just usually doesn't respond to the emotion in the same way as most. She treats most things like a game or an opportunity to have fun, her anger included.   
She has a number of hobbies and interests, one of the most prominent being arts and crafts. She absolutely adores bath bombs and slime, both of which she's spent years making. Getting the materials for these things isn't easy though, so she turns to one source she knows will never run out- other trolls. For slime, she uses a mixture of the blood of whatever trolls she's killed and sopor slime from her recuperacoon. For bath bombs, she uses blood, bones, sopor and whatever other materials she has around to make them nice and pretty, and crunchy. Being a connoisseur of the arts, she always makes sure to taste what she makes to make sure it's up to par.  
....Alright, she may have a bit of a problem with her eating habits. She really loves eating bath bombs, which is part of why she loves making them so much. She just really loves the feeling of them crunching under her teeth, and with the right ingredients added they can taste pretty great too. This is the only unusual thing she tends to eat though, she knows to leave her slime alone. Not only would something with so much sopor in it practically be toxic, but if she ate it then she wouldn't be able to play with it. She loves playing with the slime she creates, it's so pretty and it feels really nice squishing around in her hands.  
She usually goes after lower bloods for the colors of her crafts, mostly because those are the most plentiful. She loves when she gets the chance to get higher colors, but the opportunity rarely presents itself. While nobody cares if lowbloods are killed all willy nilly, there are people who actually care about highbloods. Not to mention that higher bloods are stronger and put up more of a fight, which is more fun as far as she's concerned, but more of a hassle as well. One of her dreams is to be able to kill a fuchsia and use its materials for her crafts. So far, she isn't close to achieving this dream at all

Extra: Why yes, the concept of her was taken from an old meme. If it's any consolation, when I made her the meme wasn't that old yet  
Unlike a Certain Other Purple-Blood, her lusus was actually there for her as much as it could be. It had to be away quite often, but it would visit when it could. When it did, it would bring gifts. During one of its visits, it brought a rock that it thought looked cool, which she ended up eating. This is where her love of the crunch came from  
  


 

**#2**  
I'm kind of sorry for this one existing, but hey. Also, obligatory clarification that nothing about him reflects my actual beliefs

Name: Gojiim Beante(Shitty google translate, apparently German for Goyim Officer. Though I added an extra I to his first name so it can fit the 6 letter rule)

Gender: Male

Typing Quirk: Double S's, as well as occasionally throwing in some random, possibly incorrect, German

Blood Color: Lime

Lusus: Eagle(Bird-Dad)

Dream Self: Derse

Sign: Canrius, Sign of the Helper

Weapon: Pistol-kind, the specific one of his choice is a Luger

God Tier: Knight of Hope

Appearance: He keeps his hair short and slicked back, with a few stray tufts sticking up here and there. As for his horns, they resemble lightning bolts, or twin S's, whichever seems more accurate. He wears a pair of sick shades whenever he leaves the hive. The rest of his clothing is very uniform-esque, with a black formal button up jacket and pants of the same color. The pants are tucked into heavy boots. His sign is on his person of course, in the form of an armband- he wears a lime armband with his symbol printed on it in bold black

Personality/Lifestyle Details: He tries to exude an aura that is formal and professional, as well as powerful. He wants people to think he's intimidating, but he doesn't want to achieve this by acting like some sort of savage, he tries his absolute best to keep his cool and stay calm in any situation, especially when he's around others.  
He has a very low opinion on blood colors that aren't his own. He does respect the hemospectrum to an extent though. He knows that lowbloods are considered as such for a reason, and are just generally inferior. He also recognizes that highbloods are considered high for a reason, respecting the power that they have. That doesn't stop him from thinking his blood color is better though. He thinks that limes are the best blood color, in intelligence at least, and to some extent in power too. He highly believes that if all limes came together, they could most definitely overthrow the empress if they wanted and place themselves at the top of the spectrum. He tries to convince other limes of this when he can. The results he gets are mixed. Needless to say, this also strains his relationships with people who have different blood colors than him.  
He hasn't gathered nearly enough supporters to say that he's starting a rebellion, any group that he's amassed could easily be dismissed as being just a ragtag gang of hoodlums. He's proud of what he has though, and hopes to one day get enough support to participate in a proper coup.  
When he's not busy being disgustingly racist, he likes to dabble in art. He's not very good at it, all he can really do are simple sketches, but he hopes to one day be a talented painter

Extra: I initially created this guy as a bad joke when I saw there was a sign in the Extended Zodiac that ever so slightly resembled the SS logo, as well as when I saw that there was a canon Jewish troll in Hiveswap  
He, of course, exists ages in the past, far behind current Alternia- as well as most likely much before Hiveswap Alternia too. He exists back when lime trolls were still alive, before they were hunted to extinction. Despite his obsession with his blood color, I tried not to give too much info on it, since not much about limes is really known  
I really just made him for the meme and ended up fleshing him out a lot more than I initially intended to  
Also, as for why his lusus is a fuckin eagle- because one of the original symbols of fascism is a specific type of hammer known as a fasces, which is sometimes depicted as being carried by an eagle. That, plus the Nazis had eagles as an animal they used in their symbolism and such

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway,,, this is They. Feel perfectly free to roast them both, honestly


	29. TribeStuck Extras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As it turns out, I'm more invested in this AU than I originally thought, so take these extras I guess

**Humans(Yeah, that's right. I had to add the SV protags too. I have an explanation for them being here though dw)**

_Noah Maxwell_  
Classpect- Heir of Rage( So long story short on the Heir of Rage, they give into their anger a lot. It’s one of the most influential emotions for them so when they start to feel anger they just let it go. This can lead to them entering bouts of shouting and aggressiveness possibly very easily and repetitively. They are also highly responsive the negative emotions of others and if someone get’s mad at them they are likely to get just as mad back  
An Heir of Rage would be very defiant and largely skeptical of pretty much everything. They never have trouble saying no to something and can be downright stubborn and completely unmovable if they so choose  
Heirs of Rage are also prone themselves to being manipulated by fear or anger. They might also have an incredibly quick temper at times, being easily riled up or very jumpy. They might even have intense phobias of certain things, making it easy for them panic and lose their heads)

 

_Kevin Haas_  
Classpect- Mage of Hope(A Mage of Hope suffers from a naive optimism that makes them believe and trust in a lot of things, only for a lot of those things to turn out to be false and unreliable, this can give them a lot of experience and intuitive knowledge in recognizing authentic objects, people or intentions. There will be plenty of times they will trust someone or feel safe and happy around them, but it will turn out to be a deception all along, on the flipside they also recognize authentic things by interacting with truly authentic people. But there will also be times when what they put faith in will not fail them, and this is how they gain knowledge of what can be truly trusted and believed in. They have an innate sense of what is authentic and real, and what is not. They can spot a true authentic anything from a mile away, because they have that experience, that trial and error or that direct experience, to know and understand which is which  
They might have often said Yes to any number of questions or choices, later either finding them out to be good or bad ideas from doing them. They understand from this when it is right to say yes and put faith into something. They could suffer from their tendency to believe in someone or something, despite evidence to the contrary as well, having that undeniable need to want to believe and have faith, even if it looks like to others it will turn out badly. They might be the only person to trust and believe in something that no one else does because they truly know and experience that yes, they can be trusted and put their faith into it  
They want to Hope for the best. In this way they might let things happens or let people do things that might not turn out in the best interest, and so they suffer from that. Then other times it will work out, and they will gain the knowledge that this or person is to be truly trusted and believed in. They unstoppably move forward, never faltering in their path, despite the roadblocks or winding roads they must go down. They keep going, even when it looks like they might not be able to, because they believe that they can and because they know they can. Even when it looks like something has failed them, they trust and know when they have put their faith in the right place)

 

_Evan Jennings_  
Classpect- Knight of Rage(A Knight of Rage would be extremely skilled at using their own reactive rage, panic or fear to their advantage. They are probably almost never caught off guard due to their paranoia and anger making them highly reactive, as if their flight or fight response was on constant overdrive. Their reactive impulses matched with the Knight’s skill makes them great warriors, having great fighting instincts and even greater reflexes. They would be able to antagonize and dominate their opponents with their pure fighting ability or their ability to exploit the blind anger, fear, despair or doubts of their opponent. They definitely are ones to taunt their enemies while fighting like “haha missed me missed now you gotta kiss me!” *high pitched screams while flinch dodging angry attack* “haha missed me again wow you suck!”  
A Knight of Rage though is always afraid that one day they might be caught off guard or get too angry or too afraid to do anything, and they exploit their anxious paranoia, fears, anger or doubts to fuel their twitchy reflexes. Tap them on the shoulder without warning when they are in a bad mood and they liable to punch you in the face just on pure reflex. The Knight’s fears of uselessness or not just trying hard enough mixed with Rage’s tendencies to criticize and doubt can make for a serious case of low inner self esteem caused by internally kicking themselves when they’re down and making it worse  
They tend not to dwell on it much though, being more focused on the general adrenaline rush they are almost constantly on. The Knight may even use that a shield they hide behind like instead of dealing with insecurities just drown them in the adrenaline rush. Their challenge is a difficult one, because it involves coming out from behind the shield and really facing their fears, not through a battle of avoidant reflexes, but by stubbornly holding their ground and refusing to back down or flinch away)

 

_Vincent Caffarello_  
Sign- Sylph of Blood(Sylphs heal their aspect and heal using their aspect. Blood is about interpersonal relationships, responsibility, blood, and bonds both literal and metaphorical. Therefore, a Sylph of Blood would be a healer of relationships and friendships, preserver of responsibilities, and healer of minor wounds  
The Sylph of Blood would start off simply as a kindly person who holds a group of friends together. They’d be the go-to person if two people start fighting, and would generally act as the mother of the group  
As they started to play the game, the Sylph of Blood would need to step up more and more often, as tensions and tempers rose between team members. They’d be able to sit the parties involved down, calm their wild tempers, and resolve the situation and save the friendship, just by talking to them  
A god tiered Sylph of Blood wouldn’t have too many flashy abilities. The only direct ability that they would gain would be the ability to heal wounds, but not bring people back to life. However, they would be the team’s internal binding force, able to heal injured friendships with just a few words to one party or the other, and keeping people bound together with the bonds of responsibility. In short, the Sylph of Blood is the team’s mother, keeping friends together and the team internally cohesive)

 

_Jeff Koval_  
His classpect is irrelevant, as he is not a player. He is the sprite for the human's session- one of them at least, the one they interact with the most. He died before the group could play together, and his friends had the bright idea to revive him by tossing his remains into the kernelsprite

 

_Why the humans are relevant/How they know the trolls_  
Call me unoriginal, but they became aware of each other through a sort of reverse of how the trolls and humans met in the Homestuck canon. Instead of the humans fucking up and releasing some game-ruining monster into another session, the trolls managed to do this, albeit not exactly on purpose, in fact it was kind of out of their hands despite originating from their session.  
Their dimension ended up housing The Administrator, who is a horrifically powerful being with the ability to destroy and damage timelines- essentially a dimensional equivalent of Lord English. Pretty much all of them had to deal with it at one point or another before they began playing the game, although to a much lesser extent than their TribeTwelve canon counterparts. It ended up following them into their session, and from there had access to other sessions. It made its way to the human's session this way.  
After a number of things were fucked up in both sessions, the trolls discovered a means in The Veil that let them view and communicate with the humans, which is basically the same thing as what the actual HS trolls used. Troll Firebrand was the one who decided that communicating with them should be done at all, since he was the one who noticed the being in the other session. He figured that maybe, if they worked together, they could find a way to at least survive whatever this thing was going to inflict on their timelines. Plus, he felt kind of bad for making these other players have to deal with the Admin in the first place. Needless to say, some of his teammates were less happy about his decision than others, but eventually most of them ended up complying

 

 

**Extra info on the trolls**

_Attuor Custos(Observer)_  
He is the one who dealt with the Administrator the most pre-Sgrub. He is also the only one who was never scared of it and never saw it as a problem, he respected it in a way and kind of looked up to it. If it were to appear in his hive, he wouldn't run or try to make it go away, and would just accept that it was there. This ended up getting him hurt many times, but he didn't particularly care  
He has abilities very similar to Vriska's, in fact before he God Tiered, they were pretty much exactly the same. After achieving Ascension into God Tier, his powers grew stronger. They became strong enough to effectively be used on humans and those of a higher blood caste than him  
He was very enthusiastic about speaking to the humans, but not for the reasons he should have been. Instead of trying to befriend any of them, he was quick to start mercilessly trolling them. He loved the reactions he got from Noah the most, so that was who he pestered the most often  
He practiced his newly strengthened powers on Kevin, making the human act in ways that he normally wouldn't. This ended up being something that fucked up certain points of the humans session, but it is also what made Noah achieve Godhood. He made Kevin push Noah from a fatal height, and ended up making him fall and die right on his quest bed. Whether or not this was intentional or his original intentions had been to kill Noah, he refuses to say  
 

_Torris Testar(Firebrand)_  
He and his (now former) moirail are tied in second place for most Administrator sightings. He became very good at evading the Admin, figuring out ways to either get away from it or make it fuck off. He considered this a blessing, since he really could never stand that thing  
He was rather enthusiastic about talking to the humans, which is to be expected considering he was the one who decided that communication was necessary in the first place. He particularly enjoys talking to and helping Noah, the human reminds him of himself in a way that he can't quite put his finger on, and this sense of odd familiarity makes him a bit more fond and protective over Noah than the other humans. He likes all the humans to some extent though, and he's spoken to all of them at least once  
He used to be moirails with Troll Scars, back when they were younger. He tried to help the other troll avoid the Admin like he could, he wasn't very successful though. As it turns out, a lot of his methods came pretty naturally to him, so he either ended up not really knowing how to properly explain them, or his moirail just couldn't figure them out. This was one of the factors that ended up making them have to split, the other being that they hardly ever could make any time for each other pre-Sgrub. After splitting they stayed friends, of course, and Torris continued helping with emotional troubles when he could, but they had a mutual agreement that being moirials just didn't seem to work. This was for the best, since later in life he met Troll HABIT, who was in desperate need of some sort of guidance, friendly or otherwise  
 

_Cautes Corvus(Mr. Scars)_  
As was previously mentioned, he has had to deal with the Administrator a lot. Much more than he had ever been happy or comfortable with. This was the cause of a few of his deep seated issues, and it only ended up worsening the ones that it didn't cause  
One of the other causes of his issues are a few of the other trolls that ended up in his session, Cursor being the worst one. Their hives were in close proximity to each other too, so it wasn't exactly easy for him to avoid her either. At one point he considered getting into the pitch quadrant with her, thinking that maybe this would make her more tolerable somehow. This idea was disregarded almost as soon as it was considered though, as he found the thought of being with her in any quadrant rather sickening. If there is one thing she was ever good for in his eyes, it was helping him achieve God Tier by killing him on his quest bed. Though, she hadn't informed him that it was going to be done and caught him by surprise, which is another thing on his list of things he can't find it in himself to forgive her for  
He was really not happy about having to talk to the humans at first, and really only did it because his friend told him to. Even after finding that he could tolerate, and even enjoy communicating with, some of the humans, he didn't do it often. When he did, it was almost always with Kevin or Noah  
 

Cursor Regina(Cursor[obviously])  
She had to deal with the Admin a fair amount. Although, she didn't react to it how one would really expect. Instead of trying to get away from it or avoid it, she would sometimes go right to it, occasionally going as far as trying to get it to come to her. She didn't do this because she liked it, in fact she hates the Admin just as much as most of the others. She did it because she felt it was necessary. She knew that she couldn't avoid it, and that trying to do so would likely just end up getting her hurt, so she welcomed it  
Her acceptance of the Admin in her life is one of the main reasons why she and Cautes never got along. She would often try and get him to do the same as her, dragging him to areas where she knew it could and likely would show up. She thought that she was helping him by doing this, that by making him be around it, it would grow as tolerant of him as it had of her. All this ever accomplished was getting him hurt and making him more fearful of the thing  
During one of these outings, the two of them got into a dispute. It would have been a minor one, if the Administrator hadn't shown up in the middle of it. As soon as it did, he tried dropping everything and running, but she wasn't having that. She tried to grab him and keep him there. In his panic, he lashed out and ended up scratching the fuck out of both of her eyes, which resulted in her going blind. After later making him bandage them up, which he did half-assedly, just sticking some gauze on them in the shape of two X's, she decided that it would be best for her if she stopped dragging him into this, and she left him alone to deal with the Admin by himself  
She really did not care for the humans, not seeing how they were supposed to help at all. She also didn't really enjoy talking to any of them. After trolling Kevin and Noah a bit, she kind of gave up with the whole interspecies communication thing  
 

_Gestor Leiter(Deadhead)_  
He used the same strategy of dealing with the Admin as Cursor, that's actually how they knew each other. They met at one of the meetings, if one could really call them that. They were never particularly close, despite how much they talked due to this arrangement  
This arrangement of theirs is also how he met Cautes. She introduced the two of them during one meeting. Before Sgrub, that was really their only interaction  
Before being aware of the humans, his typing quirk was different. Instead of putting Swastikas before and after his sentences, he put a little skull and crossbones emoji. He also would make occasional bone puns, though this was a habit he picked up from his moirail  
After discovering the humans, he really felt no interest in talking to them, and didn't. Instead, he did research on humans in general, since they had access to the human internet. Most of what he found wasn't anything he found interesting. In fact, he found most of it really stupid. There was one thing he found that he enjoyed though, and that was the history. He found that reading about the various wars was amusing. There was one thing about their history that he found legitimately fascinating, and that was the second world war. When he found out about that, he got absolutely obsessed. He loved the German army of that time in particular, and found himself idolizing the country's leader  
His obsession was strong enough to cause a shift in his personality, prominent enough to cause him to change his quirk and trollhandle  
Before God Tiering, he always wore a mask, one that resembled a skull. After God Tiering, he couldn't wear it anymore. This is because it was burned/melted away. He achieved God Tier in a massive fire. After his newly ascended self rose up from the flames, he found that every part of him was healed except for his head, his skull was left exposed. Apparently, he didn't want this part of himself to be healed, he thought that it would look extremely cool, so upon God Tiering, it didn't

  
  
_Lieben Scaena(Swain)_  
For a while, he had some pretty bad problems with the Admin. This actually fucked him up kind of bad, but he did all the research he could to try and learn how to lessen the effects the being had on him. This led to the creation of his Journal, which contained the secret to keeping yourself safe from it, & in and of itself exuded an aura that kept the being away. Eventually, he ended up being conned out of the journal by Troll Persolus, who kept it and all its mystical properties for himself. Needless to say, he and Persolus do not get along  
After losing his journal, he started heavily relying on Gestor for support, leading to them furthering their relationship and becoming moirails  
He didn't have any interest in the humans whatsoever, and didn't interact with them at all. He also did the bare minimum when it came to research, only looking into human plays and operas and such, to see how they compared to what trolls had. He ended up concluding that human plays are stupid and primitive, much like the species as a whole  
He was introduced to German Military History by his moirail. At first he wasn't too crazy about it, but he agreed to look into it because he didn't want to make Gestor sad. He ended up enjoying it thoroughly, not enough to get obsessed with it like his moirail was, but he did find it interesting  
Before reaching God Tier, he wore a mask to match with his moirail. After reaching God Tier, he still wore the mask, only permanently. You see, he also died on his quest bed in a fire, albeit a less intense one than the one Gestor had been stuck in. Once he rose up, he found that his mask was basically welded to his face, the parts that had been touching it had melded with his flesh. Apparently, he cared more about aesthetics than practicality, so this didn't end up getting fixed after he ascended  
He knew about Cursor via Gestor, who would occasionally talk about her. The two of them didn't officially meet until they started playing the game though. As it turned out, they got along really well  
 

_Tantum Cascus(Persolus)_  
He was never too fond of the other trolls. Before deciding to become a hermit, he got to know a lot of them though, and unfortunately for him this meant that after he tried isolating himself, a good few of them would refuse to leave him alone  
He absolutely hated the Administrator, but he didn't know how to make it leave him alone- until he found out about the journal at least. He learned of it and its properties from its original owner, and after that he felt like he needed to get his hands on it. He felt as if he deserved it more than Lieben. Problem was, because of its mysterious properties, he couldn't take it unless it was handed over willingly. So, through a series of trickery, he found a way to convince Lieben to hand it over, and then he took it for himself, relishing in his new safety and cutting off contact with everyone, holing himself up in his hive to make sure he could keep an eye on it, as well as to make sure nobody could try and con it from him  
He really only agreed to play the game because he didn't very much like the idea of dying. He had hoped that it would be a quick ordeal, but was proven wrong. Needless to say, he surely didn't contact any of the humans when instructed to. In fact, he disregarded the thought of doing so as soon as it was suggested to him  
 

_Incolo Potior(HABIT)_  
The only thing stopping the Admin from terrorizing him was the fact that he refused to be terrorized, and he refused to view the creature as a threat. Any time it caused him harm, he shrugged it off with a laugh. Apparently this, plus his efforts to find ways to repel it, was enough to make it decide that bothering him wasn't worth it. At least, it made sure to steer clear of his hive  
Being a purpleblood, he was never all that stable. In fact, he was the farthest thing from it. One of the things he did for fun was taking other trolls, mainly lowbloods, to his hive and murdering them in a very slow and painful manner. If he weren't a troll, that would be a lot more fucked up than it is. Although, a lot of others still thought it was pretty fucked  
When he met Torris, he'd initially planned on doing what he did best and killing him. He ended up finding that Torris was rather smart and crafty, at least more so than others of his blood color Incolo had encountered. He actually found the other troll to be fun to be around. After a while, he saw no reason not to become moirails, and he also didn't see a reason to not play the game upon his moirail's request  
When it came time to communicate with the humans, he jumped right on it. He didn't want to befriend them though, just found lots of joy in trolling them. He especially loved messing with Evan and Vinny, although he also would occasionally troll Noah a bit too  
It is also worth mentioning he has crazy strong chucklevoodoo powers, and takes advantage of these powers very often. His main target for this is Evan


	30. Eldritch Maturation

Observer isn't a human, this much is known. He could very well be the most non-human Collective member there is. It is pretty much decided by the fandom that he was created by the Admin, in fact I'm half sure that's canon. Whether or not it is, that's what we're going with for this

The Administrator is some sort of Eldritch monster, so it's reasonable to assume that anything it created would be as well. Now, eldritch beings tend to live for millennia, perhaps even eons. They get old as hell, and Admin is probably old as hell- possibly literally

Observer isn't though. Observer is only as old as his session. For convenience sake, let's say that his session started about the time Milo was born, so they're about the same age. So, in human years, Observer is about 30. In the grand scheme of how old something like him can get, this is like a tiny little baby. He's basically an Eldritch Infant, he should be in eldritch preschool, playing with the other babies

Eventually though, he has to mature. It could take years, lots of them, maybe even hundreds for the signs of his maturation to start to show. It would eventually start happening though, and I'm sure it would be rather impressive

However long it takes and whenever it happens, the first physical changes that would happen to him would be subtle. His teeth would start to grow sharper, as well as longer. They wouldn't be all that noticeable at first, in fact he'd likely be the only one to notice the change. Clearly though, over time this would be more noticeable

What used to be just sharper than average human teeth would eventually grow into proper fangs. They'd be the type you'd expect an animal to have, perhaps the tips of the canines would occasionally peek out even when his mouth was closed. This would take him a while to get used to, even though the process would be gradual. He'd have to learn how to not cut the insides of his mouth on its new additions

Teeth wouldn't be the only thing that would change though, of course not. One of Observer's main themes is eyes, so of course those would undergo some sort of change too

How would they change? Well, he'd get more of them of course. The first set would be underneath his current pair, and would take time to develop and form before opening. They may be mistaken as bags at first, especially bad ones. Eventually though, they'd open and would be just as functional as his previous pair

After that he'd grow more. They'd sprout up on different areas, mostly his face. Some would be bigger than others, and at different angles too most likely, but they'd all be fully functional as well. He also is used to being able to see more than just the eyes on his face show him, so it wouldn't take him too long to get used to these

Most of the changes he underwent would center around those two features, the visual changes at least, but there would be exceptions

Over time he'd likely start to appear more...shadowy. His appearance would get more vague and obscure. He would still have a specific shape, resembling his current vessel, but it wouldn't be nearly as accurate as before

Aside from the changes to his appearance, he'd also get changes to his abilities

Specifically, any ability he had previously would get much stronger. Could he teleport before? Well, now the distance he can go is increased exponentially, as well as how many times he can do it before running out of energy. He can also bring more things and people with him

Could he warp space-time at all before? Well, now that could be very dangerous

Apply that to any ability you think he had before, and that's pretty much accurate

Another physical change he may undergo, he may start to grow tendrils. He could summon those before, of course, but there may start to be some on him permanently. He could use these as extra limbs, or weapons, or anything of the like

There is one thing about him that wouldn't change, and that's his height. This would start as a disadvantage, both because he just would not like being short and because this would make it harder for him to get used to his strength. All that power in such a small body, at least by Eldritch standards, would be a lot to adjust to, even if the strength is gained gradually

He could use this to his advantage though. Once he got used to his power, having so much concentrated inside him would be amazing. He could take down any other Collective member if he wanted, perhaps even all at once if he put his mind to it

Perhaps he'd even get strong enough to compete with the Admin. Maybe he'd get strong enough to beat the Admin? Who knows, certainly not him

That's. Pretty much all I got of this. I can't tell if it's good or not, but I like the concept of Super Powerful Eldritch Observer, alright


	31. A Humble Request

HABIT didn't get out much, at least by his own standards he didn't. It wouldn't be too abnormal for a human to be as much of a shut-in as he'd begun to be, but for him it was very odd. Not the good kind either, he wasn't enjoying himself.

This was especially true since Vinny left. He didn't actually miss the fucker, that would be ridiculous. He just missed having him around, big difference. Doing his usual, horrible shit just seemed more appealing when he knew that there would be someone there to watch in horror.

Ever since the human had left, his motivation had taken a heavier hit than he liked to admit, and he'd been spending most of his time just watching, waiting for Vinny to fuck up.

He didn't like that. He wanted to do something else, something more his usual style. Or, really just anything at all. This period of inactivity was maddening.

Despite having been feeling like this for a while, he hadn't exactly been acting on these feelings, or doing anything about it. He was sick and tired of that too.

He decided that this was going to change. He was actually going to do something, and hopefully that would get him to stop being such a lazy sack of shit.

In fact, he knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to go out for a night on the town, and basically do whatever the fuck he pleased. Maybe he'd drop into the Candleverse too, he wasn't sure yet.

Bottom line, he was going to just try and have a good time, in the only way he knew how. If that didn't solve whatever problem he had, then he wasn't sure what he'd do. He knew it wouldn't be good, whatever it was. If he was lucky then he wouldn't have to figure it out.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many hours, and a ludicrous amount of corpses later, HABIT was extremely happy to find that his plan had worked. One night of mayhem was all it took for him to get his spark back. As far as he was aware, this meant he was back to being his usual, awful self.

This seemed to be cause for celebration. Although, his way of celebrating was doing the same thing he'd just finished doing, and since he'd literally just finished it, that seemed like it would be counterproductive.

He decided he'd have another night of fun tomorrow to celebrate. For now, he just wanted to get home.

Once he did get back to his place of residence, the fact that his door was unlocked didn't register as odd. He hardly even noticed it, really. That was fine though, because once he was inside he began noticing plenty of other things instead, which were all equally out of place.

For starters, all the lights were off. He distinctly remembered leaving them on when he left. He had no reason to try to conserve electricity, after all. It wasn't like he was the one paying the bills.

The second thing he noticed was that the place was dimly lit with candles. There weren't enough to make the lighting normal, just enough to see. The only thing he could think about this, aside from how dumb and pointless it was, was the fact that this seemed like kind of a potential fire hazard. 

The final, and possibly most abnormal, thing he noticed was the rose petals scattered upon the floor. The only feeling this stirred in him was confusion, and perhaps a hint of anger. It made so little sense that it was actually kind of frustrating.

He wondered if following the trail the petals were making would give him answers. He sure hoped so, because it wasn't like he was going to do anything besides follow it.

As he did what he had to do, he vaguely thought about how all the candles and petals were really making his place smell like shit. It looked pretty bad too. If whoever did this was still in his house, they were most definitely going to be in a world of pain when he found them.

After only a few moments, he found that the trail led up the stairs, and stopped at his bedroom door.

Okay, it didn't actually stop, obviously. It was just that the door was closed, so that was all he could see. Clearly, when he opened the door, there would be even more shitty candles and cheap rose petals. Possibly even more than he'd already seen.

He decided that instead of thinking about how unpleasant that would inevitably be, he was just going to yank the door open and get to the bottom of this, get it over with.

And so he did. He wasn't sure if he was ready for what he saw on the other side.

As expected, the quantity of the items in question was a lot larger. There were candles in rows on his end table. Also just kind of in a circle around his bed, because that didn't seem dangerous or anything.

And then the rose petals. Christ, they were fucking everywhere. Not even in a particular pattern or anything, just tossed around the room with wild abandon. The only instance of them in the room that made sense was the end of the trail, which stopped at his bed.

He wasn't focused on any of that though, the terrible and potentially hazardous decor was the least of his concerns. What he was really interested in was the spectacle on his bed. 

There were petals there too. They were placed in a way so that they resembled words.

Covering his bed, in classic all caps, was one question. A question that left HABIT truly and completely floored.

_CAN I EAT YOUR ASS?_

Just that was absurd enough to cause all the emotions that weren't confusion to leave his body. And yet, there was still more.

At the head of the bed, sitting in an uncomfortably provocative pose, was none other than the rogue god himself. Firebrand met his eyes and gave him a wink.

All HABIT could do in response was stare, completely slack jawed. His mind was having trouble piecing together what he was seeing. Luckily, he was brought back to his senses by his uninvited guest speaking.

"Hey there, handsome. Welcome home." The shadowy figure greeted in a far too sultry tone.

That was the push needed for HABIT to finally start getting a hold of himself. He was able to take a proper look around and really take in what was going on, not that it helped much. When he got access to his voice back, there was of course only one thing to say. "What the fuck?"

"What do you mean, what's the problem?" Firebrand asked casually, as if this situation was completely normal and expected.

"What the _fuck_ ," HABIT repeated, with more intensity. "Is _this?"_ He gestured at the scene in front of him.

"This is just me setting up a little surprise for you, obviously." Firebrand answered, sounding just as unaffected as before. "Calm down."

"Oh yeah, obviously." HABIT rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe what an idiot he was, that explained everything! "Why?"

"I've just wanted to do something like this for a while." The shadowy prick finally sounded like he was taking this seriously, his voice taking on a bit of a nervous edge. "And now seemed like a good time, being our anniversary and all."

It seemed that every sentence he heard threw HABIT for a new loop. "Our fucking what?"

"Our anniversary." Firebrand repeated himself, as if those words explained anything. "You know, the anniversary of when you assisted me in leaving the Collective and formally started helping me."

Oh. That actually did kind of explain a lot. 

Well, not really. All it really did was tell HABIT why Firebrand had bothered showing up. It did nothing to explain everything else.

"So then what's the rest of this?" He wasn't really sure if he wanted to know, honestly.

"It's an offer." Firebrand's voice was back to that seductive tone from before. "This seemed like the best way to pay you back for all you've done for me, you know?"

"No, no I don't. What the fuck is this?"

"What, am I not allowed to thank you in a romantic way?"

If this was what Firebrand considered romance, HABIT felt bad for him. Not that the demon had an eye for romance or anything, he just knew enough to know that this was a piss poor attempt.

Before he could get another word in, Firebrand spoke up again. "If you're worried that I won't be very good at it?" 'It' in this case referring to the act of eating out someone's ass. "Cause I can assure you, I know how to show you a real nice time." He gave another wink, and a little flick of his tongue.

HABIT failed at suppressing a full body shudder, but said nothing.

"Come on, it's obvious you want to." Firebrand apparently read that action as one of desire. "You're really bad at hiding it."

HABIT was contemplating just throwing Firebrand out of his house and calling it a night, because seriously, what the fuck. What even was this? How does shit like this even happen?

He decided against that though. After some internal debating with himself, he settled on doing really the only thing one could be expected to do in this sort of situation, the proper action.

"You know what, sure. Why not?" He pushed all his questions away and gave a slight shrug. "Show me what you've got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I was talking to a friend about how it's a canon fact that Firebrand eats ass. Somehow, that guided me to do this. I don't regret a damn thing


	32. TribeTwelve BNHA AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title implies, because I'm a disgusting weeb  
> To clarify, I have no clue what exactly the Administrator's role in this AU is, I just wanted to give the Collective members some quirks. I just included(occasionally mentioned?) him b/c I can't make a Slenderverse AU without the man himself in it somehow  
> Some of the quirk names are also a work in progress lmao

Noah/Firebrand  
Quirk- Multi-Eyes: He can make eyes appear on areas of his body they normally wouldn't be. He normally just uses this for aesthetic purposes, but if used correctly it can be a useful tool as well  
(He can also time travel under certain circumstances, but he can only go back in time, and there is a clear limit as to how far back he can go. It's thought that this isn't really another quirk, but an ability caused by prolonged exposure to the Admin)

 

Observer  
Quirk- Incorporeal: His body is very shadow-like, making it difficult for damage to be inflicted on him. This, however, effects his ability to cause damage as well. He can also possess people if the circumstances are right, although it's much less powerful of a possession than if that were his quirk's primary function(Like, his influence over his vessel is more easily shaken off and it's easier for the vessel to regain control of themselves)

 

Mr. Scars  
Quirk- Healing Wounds: He can heal his injuries by cutting or stabbing himself, how much is healed depends on how deep the wound he inflicts is. This is kind of counterproductive though, since the wounds he inflicts don't fix themselves are remain a problem(He can also use his quirk to heal other people, but really, who's gonna let themselves get cut or stabbed by someone else even if it does heal their current ailments??)

 

Deadhead  
Quirk- Rot: He can cause any organic/living material to rot by touching it. That's about it, he'll make your skin rot away from your bones and such, you'll decompose while you're alive if he gets his hands on you(He accidentally got himself with it pretty bad once, which is why his skull is all exposed. He now wears gloves to prevent similar incidents)((Yes I'm aware this is really similar to Decay, but honestly what else was I supposed to do for him))

 

Swain  
Quirk- Archive: If he writes down your name in his journal, he'll know your quirk and how it works. He won't be able to use it or take it anything, but he can use this knowledge to figure out the strengths and weaknesses of it. Obviously, this can be difficult to use and has plenty of drawbacks, but hey, he does what he can

 

Cursor  
Quirk- Manipulation: She can alter the sway of your emotions and essentially make you feel however she wants, which she can in turn use to make you do what she wants. This works a lot better if who she's using it on doesn't know about it, since being aware of what she's doing makes it easier to resist

 

HABIT  
Quirk- Possession: Exactly what it sounds like. He can take control of someone's body and do whatever he likes with it. Unlike Observer's possession, his is much more powerful. It's nearly impossible to get rid of him if he's set his sights on using you as a vessel, so you're probably better off not resisting and just letting him do what he wants, unless you somehow have experience dealing with this sort of thing


	33. English Is Hard, Okay?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-chronological instances of Deadhead and Swain being fucking bad at the English language, for no reason other than the thought of them struggling is humorous  
> Wanted to include more, but couldn't think of anything else that'd actually be funny

The Collective didn't function like a regular group most of the time. There were many examples of this, but one of the most prominent was that a lot of the time, they didn't exactly work _together_ , per se. Despite technically being able to be classified as a hivemind, they rarely helped each other with any given responsibility, and would normally plan things by themselves, not telling their colleagues what they planned to do.

This wasn't exactly a problem, in the grand scheme of things. At least, it wasn't a major one. Most of them had generally the same goal, which was the Administrator's goal, and the ones who didn't were still bound to the creature, so it wasn't like they could purposefully go against the group's goal.

No contact with each other still made things complicated though, could confuse things. It could cause them to make conflicting plans, accidentally mess each other up. They were smart enough to recognize these risks, so every so often they would gather together for a proper meeting to discuss their plans together, so they could get on the same page.

Some of these went better than others. Sometimes they consisted of the members screaming at each other, refusing to listen to any of the others. Other times, they actually did talk like civilized adults, and would work together to make sure everyone's plans were more solid. It wasn't hard to guess which of the two was more common.

The meeting in question was closer to the second, there was a bit of bickering between some of them, but it wasn't nearly as chaotic as it could be.

At the moment, Observer was doing most of the talking. That was mostly to be expected, he was the one most involved in their current goal. He was rattling on about how he was most certainly going to be the one to get Noah to hand over to journal, he was sure of it.

The others were mostly listening, offering a comment every so often either to encourage him or criticize his tactics. He mostly talked over them, not bothering to pause his speech to listen.

At some point he did stop talking though, for a few moments. So that he could ask the others their thoughts so far. He likely didn't really care what they thought, but this would make it easier for him to make sure none of them would interfere with what he intended to do.

He didn't get too many comments, either the others weren't listening or didn't care enough to give their thoughts.

Deadhead was the one who seemed the most interested, judging how he was the one who spoke the most. "Personally, I think you have a very good plan going, if this doesn't make him hand over the journal, it will most certainly get him closer to it."

"Exactly my thoughts." Observer's grin widened at the praise. "So, do you have any idea what you'll be doing?"

Deadhead took a few moments to think. "Well, I don't have everything nearly as mapped out as you, but I do know one thing." His eyes lit up as his voice took on a bit of a sadistic edge. "When I make my move, and when I get to Noah, I'm going to mate him."

The group fell silent at that, the ones who had seemingly not been paying attention before now had their eyes trained on him.

Most of them looked confused, some a little bit disturbed. Observer looked like he was trying to hold back from laughing. 

Scars was the first to speak up, meeting Deadhead's now-confused gaze. "I'm sorry, but you're gonna do _what_ to Noah?"

"I... thought that I was clear with my wording." He muttered, partially to himself. "What seems to be the problem?"

Scars just stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly in shock. "I am not going to let you fuck my cousin." He said very seriously.

At this, the knight held his hands up in defense, stumbling back. "That- That's not what I said at all! What gave you that idea?"

"You literally said you were gonna mate with him." The younger member stated, as if it were obvious. It kind of was, to everyone else.

Deadhead was quiet for a few moments as the gears turned in his head. When he finally connected the dots, he looked incredibly shocked, and immediately launched into defending himself. "That's not- I meant mate as in _check mate_ , like in chess." He looked and sounded like he was pleading, desperate to clear up the misunderstanding.

After a few seconds of staring, Scars found himself muffling his own laughter, muttering a quiet 'holy shit'.

This, of course, set off the rest, and before long all of them were laughing at his expense.

He glared around at them, hoping it would silence them. The impact was kind of ruined by how flustered he was.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to shut them up, and that even after they were done this would be something he'd be teased about for a while. So, he pulled his hood further over his face and redirected his glare at the ground, just waiting for it to pass.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Scars hung around the knights more often than he should. He knew they weren't exactly ideal friends, but it wasn't like he had a plethora of options, and he was willing to just take what he could get. These two were, surprisingly enough, some of the more tolerable members of the group, and they seemed to enjoy his presence enough, or at least deal with it, so they became some of the only ones in the Collective he'd hang around voluntarily.

He normally didn't engage with them too much, mostly letting them do their own thing without getting in the way. They were fine with this, seemingly glad to just have another companion. This was good, as far as he was concerned, considering he didn't really know how to talk to them about what they liked a lot of the time.

At the moment, he was standing on the sidelines as he did his best to keep up with their conversation. 

Alright, that was a lie, he wasn't trying that hard. He tuned in every once in a while, but most of what they were saying seemed like complete nonsense, so he ended up spacing out for most of the talk.

It wasn't that he was bored, just confused. It didn't matter anyway, since they rarely made him participate in whatever they talked about. They likely wouldn't even notice he wasn't listening.

Everything was fine and fairly uneventful until something Swain said caught his attention.

Whatever they were on about before, it seemed that the conversation had shifted to mostly complaining. 

They did that a lot, all of them did, so that wasn't too alarming. It was Swain's response to something his friend said that caught Scars' attention.

He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes as he spoke, although whether he was being dramatic or actually upset was hard to tell. "Yeah, I don't think you can do that anymore. If you get caught, they'll incest you."

Naturally, Scars' eyes snapped toward him, wide and shocked. "Woah wait, they'll fucking _what?_ "

They both focused their attention on him, looking confused. "Incest you, you know?" Swain was the first to attempt to clarify. "Lock you up, throw you in jail?"

"Oh." Slowly, it occurred to Scars what he'd meant. "Oh, holy shit." He buried his face in his hands, letting out a few quiet chuckles.

"What... is so funny?" Deadhead spoke up.

Scars raised his head to look at them again, trying to be serious. "Listen, that word doesn't mean what you guys think it means."

"If being incested isn't when you're put in jail, then what else could it be?" Swain sounded genuinely lost.

Unable to stop himself from snorting at that, Scars tried to explain. "It's just.. okay you know how some people think it's okay to fuck their brothers or cousins or whatever? That's what incest means."

The two of them looked stunned, understandably so. They looked in between each other and him, not daring to speak.

"Then....what word was I trying to think of?" Swain asked, horrified voice hardly above a whisper.

"Arrest." Scars answered without skipping a beat.

They were quiet for a few more seconds before the white knight piped up again. "Man... fuck your language, this sucks."

Deadhead nodded in agreement.

That was fair, honestly.


	34. Fashion

At first when HABIT had insulted his fashion sense, Firebrand didn't care. After all, what did the other entity know about fashion? Nothing, that's what. Have you seen some of the things he wore? Whenever he left the house he looked like a clown, he was not in a position to talk shit on anyone else's fashion sense.

That wasn't even mentioning his hygiene. HABIT likely had never seen a bath or shower in his life, and often times the grease on him was incredibly visible. And sure, Firebrand wasn't a shining example of cleanliness himself, but he was still better than HABIT.

This is why he felt especially dumb when the demon's critiques actually started getting to him. They shouldn't have, he knew it. He knew he was leagues above the other and he had nothing to worry about. That didn't stop him from thinking about it though, and wondering.

What if he really was 'boring' and 'bland'? What if his occasional multitude of eyes really was the only interesting part of his appearance? What if he really was the plainest, saddest excuse for a god there was?

Of course, those were stupid things to worry about. He had so many other things to focus on, why should he give a shit about what he looked like?

Well, he shouldn't, but he did. He really only cared because HABIT of all people was the one who insulted him. That bastard didn't have any business talking shit on anybody, and yet he had been around for longer than most could comprehend. Hypocrite that he was, maybe he was a smart guy, and maybe he knew what he was talking about.

What was Firebrand supposed to do about this though? Even if he admitted that HABIT was right, he didn't know anything about fashion. He had no idea what would and wouldn't look good on him, especially if he went with anything that fit the requirements he'd been suggested.

The demon had told him that first and foremost, he needed a wardrobe that was more colorful. All he ever wore was black, and that was a problem, it got old after a while.

He'd also suggested that Firebrand could go for something a little more revealing, or 'spicy' as he'd put it. He'd said that the god could probably pull it off.

He didn't really like the sound of either of those things, truthfully. Too much color would just look bad, and too revealing would make him look bad both physically and morally, not to mention it would make him feel like a certain promiscuous family member of his.

For a while, he was stumped. He couldn't dismiss HABIT as wrong, and he kind of did want to try this whole fashion thing to see how it went, if only because it might give him something to do outside of his work trying to maintain the loop. He didn't want to make a fool of himself though, especially not if HABIT would know. He'd never hear the end of it.

He was tempted to give up and just forget about it, the topic would probably never come up again anyway. Before he could resign himself to that though, he got an idea. A damn wonderful one, if you asked him. A plan that involved rushing to the store to buy any clothes that fit HABIT's suggestions that he thought he had any chance of pulling off, and then making his way to Noah's place.

\-------------------------------------------------

As expected, when he first told Noah about his plans, he didn't get the best reaction.

"You want me to fucking what now?"

As usual, he completely ignored Noah's attitude. "I need you to try on some clothes for me, so I'll know if they'd look good on me or not."

Noah looked between him and the bags of clothes a few times. "Yeah, I don't think so."

Firebrand crossed his arms. "Come on, I've been helping you for years now, and I just need you to do this one thing." After this, he allowed himself a sly smile. "Besides, you can keep anything you end up liking."

Noah thought on it for a few more seconds, before apparently coming to the conclusion that there was no getting out of this. He groaned, fixing his future self with a glare. "Fine, let's get this over with."

\--------------------------------------------

After trying on a few things, Noah decided that he definitely regretted agreeing to this. In fact, this was one of the worst things Firebrand had ever made him do.

Firebrand, on the other hand, was loving this. He was incredibly glad that he'd decided to do this. This was the best entertainment he'd had in ages.

Noah had just finished listening to the critique of about the fourth outfit he'd tried on, knee high boots with obnoxiously tight lather pants. Forcing those things on had not been worth it, and quite honestly having someone else there watching him didn't make it any better.

Firebrand was having a blast, though. Sure, he might've gotten a bit off track from his original goal, but that was fine. This was great. He searched the bags for what to have Noah wear next, because no way was he stopping now, and smiled brightly at what was quite honestly the perfect finding.

His past self apparently didn't agree with his choice, looking at him in what could only be described as pure contempt. "You have to be fucking kidding me."

The rogue god couldn't hold back a laugh at that reaction. "Come on, this is the best one yet."

"You're out of your god damn mind if you think I'm going anywhere near that."

"You're just being a tightass, come on."

"You're being a dick, I'm done."

"Actually, no you're not."

They went back and forth like that for a while, and for a few moments Firebrand thought he'd actually have to wrestle the clothes onto Noah. But, after some debate, he begrudgingly agreed to do as he was told.

That doesn't mean he was happy about it though.

Noah stood there, in a rainbow croptop that didn't even go past his ribs, and a pair of shorts that didn't even cover half of his thighs. His arms were crossed tightly around his chest, his face was beet red and he was pointedly looking at the ground instead of the man in front of him. "This is dumb." He muttered, quietly enough that his future self had to strain to hear it.

Firebrand had a very hard time holding back laughter at this sight, and he was sure that was obvious. He tried though, because he didn't want Noah to suffer any more than necessary. "What do you mean? You look great."

"I'm glad you think that." The tone of his voice showed that he was clearly anything but. "I can't wait until you wear this and it's your turn to get laughed at."

Firebrand shook his head. "You know, you really need to get better confidence."

"Hey, fuck you."

"I'm serious. There's no reason for you to not believe that looks great on you."

Noah looked at him in complete disbelief. "Maybe because it's fucking stupid?"

"No, _you're_ fucking stupid." Firebrand replied, like the mature adult he was. "I bet the Collective is watching right now wishing they could look as good as you."

Noah seemed to get a bit more uncomfortable at the thought of the Collective seeing him like this, but he didn't give his alternate self any more hostile responses, which was good.

"Look, the point is that you look great, and that's a fact that I'm not going to argue with you about, whether you believe it or not."

Noah sighed in defeat. "Fine. You have the worst taste, but fine."

"Great." Firebrand was glad they could reach an agreement there, turning to dig through another bag. "Now, strip down again, we only have a few more left."

Noah was about to comply, then he caught a glance at what he was actually expected to wear next. "Excuse me, but what the fuck is that?"

Firebrand gave a knowing smile, holding out the garment. "What, this? Nothing."

Admittedly, this was one he'd known would get a bad reaction, and that he knew he was never going to actually wear. He'd just bought it so that he could see what his past self looked like in it. He wasn't going to actually say that, though.

The clothes in question were a ridiculously skimpy schoolgirl outfit, complete with fishnet stockings and a little bow.

Noah looked at them with nothing short of disgust. "Yeah, we're done here."

Through his laughter, Firebrand tried to change his mind. He tried the flattery and self-confidence route again, and then he'd offered to wear anything of Noah's choosing if he did wear this.

Noah wasn't having it, though. He'd went as far as to threaten burning the outfit if Firebrand didn't get rid of it.

This time, The Stubborn knew when to give up. Kind of. Really, he just decided to drop it and hop to a point later in the timeline where Noah might be a bit more cooperative, maybe to Prebrand, because god damn it he _was_ going to make this happen one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a friend and I talked briefly about this idea and I couldn't stop myself. I'm not sure if I did it justice, but goddamn this concept is fun, alright


	35. More Fantrolls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make some trolls that aren't based off of jokes. My results are,,, well they could be worse, probably

Name: Mallum Patior

 

Gender: Female 

 

Typing Quirk: Adds two extra H's as well as two extra A's when they come up in words(To emulate sighing or yawning)

 

Blood Color: Teal

 

Lusus: Chinchilla 

 

Dream Self: Prospit

 

Sign: Limino- Sign of the Endurer 

 

Weapon: Wirekind(She uses extension cords and such either to strangle or as a whip)

 

God Tier: Thief of Doom

 

Appearance: Her hair is straight and fairly short. She tries to keep it combed neatly, but due to her frequent exhaustion it's often mussed up and occasionally tangled depending on her state of unrest. Her horns closely resemble her sign, making a V shape and curving down a little near the ends

 

Personality: She tends to spend most of her time working in some way, whether it's on a personal project, or studying, or something as mundane as just cleaning her hive, she always feels the need to be doing Something. In fact, when she has nothing to work on she will get stressed and anxious. Because of this, she'll jump on minor problems and try to solve them, even if they're not even really effecting her  
She also will often try to help others with their burdens. Whether it's a friend or a complete stranger, she's happy to help with whatever they may need. She likes to feel useful and productive, and she feels that if she's not doing something then she's wasting her time. She'll take on multiple things at once, and will refuse to properly rest until everything is done, often staying up for nights on end with only brief minute-long periods of sleep  
As expected, this leads to her overworking herself and burning herself out. Instead of acknowledging this and letting herself rest, she has trouble acknowledging the fact that she's in this state and often needs someone else to make her actually relax

 

 

 

Name: Lignar Euruus

 

Gender: Male

 

Typing Quirk: Duplicates and always capitalizes the letters W, V, N and M, because of their points, to resemble the blade of a saw

 

Blood Color: Violet

 

Lusus: Sawfish/Carpenter Shark(Shark-Dad)

 

Dream Self: Prospit

 

Sign: Aquius- Sign of the Whimsical

 

Weapon: Sawkind

 

God Tier: Seer of Breath

 

Appearance: His hair is straight and decently long, going down to his shoulder blades, he ties it back in a ponytail though to keep it out of the way. Both of his horns go up and lean a bit to the side, but they're shaped slightly differently. While one is completely straight, the other curves down a tad, like a V except one side is curved  
His clothes aren't very flashy, for seadweller standards. He has a black tank top with his sign and a pair of shorts that go down to his knees. He has a few wooden rings, most plain but some have designs carved into them, one of which is his sign

 

Personality: Being a seadweller and all, he spends a lot of his time underwater. He doesn't hate land or the trolls confined to it, he's just most comfortable and adept in the sea  
He spends a majority of his time in his hive, not really going out when he doesn't have to. Thanks to this, he doesn't have many friends. He doesn't mind this too much, since while he's open to befriending people, he tends to be a bit of a recluse and doesn't make much time for others  
One thing he enjoys doing with his free time is woodworking, things like building and carpentering. He likes making many different types of things, depending on his mood. A lot of the furniture he currently owns was made by him, and he has many decorations scattered around the place as well  
He's chill, for the most part. He doesn't really discriminate(He has some ingrained biases when it comes to the hemospectrum, but for the most part judges on merit rather than blood) and he tries to avoid confrontation and drama. He doesn't get angry very easily, even when provoked, and is very good at ignoring and/or shrugging off people who do try to start shit


End file.
